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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23893441">looking for stars, looking for love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocchipkookie/pseuds/chocchipkookie'>chocchipkookie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ATEEZ (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming of Age, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Language, Falling In Love, Fashion &amp; Couture, Fluff, Found Family Feels, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Ghost Hunting, Hijinks &amp; Shenanigans, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Insecurity, Inspired by Hamlet, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, References to Hamlet, Texting, Theatre, Wicca, basically they put up a hamlet play, but ends up falling in love, but not urban magic lol, mingi just wants to find friends, theatre au!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:36:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>39,196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23893441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocchipkookie/pseuds/chocchipkookie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Three of Swords. There’s a bizarre harmony to the picture in the way the heart gets pierced; one sword slicing it vertically, the other two crossing over each other. A singular sword would have perhaps been too solemn. Two swords, perhaps too symmetrical. Three… </p><p>With three, it’s balanced. </p><p> </p><p>(mingi is a lonely college student who desperately wants to make friends. this is the story about his journey into finding the people who love him the most, and how he ends up falling in love with two of them in the process.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Kim Hongjoong, Jeong Yunho/Kim Hongjoong/Song Mingi, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa, Kim Hongjoong/Song Mingi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>249</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello, hello! so, i haven't written anything in a while, and i'm a pretty new atiny, but writing this fic has kept me company throughout this quarantine and made me fall in love with writing again. its def far from perfect, but please enjoy it! i've already finished it, so updates will come as i edit the chapters! comments and kudos are greatly appreciated ♡♡♡</p><p>♡ title from 'star 1117' by ateez ♡</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The last thing Mingi’s mother advised him before sending him off to university was to be careful and weary of his surroundings. This innate fear, along with his naturally anxious disposition has turned him into a sort of a hermit, for a lack of a better word, during his first year of attending classes. Staying inside his small, single-bed dorm, hundreds of miles away from the comforting hugs of his parents and siblings made burying his nose into his textbooks his only form of socializing (and playing Animal Crossing with his blanket drawn over his head, because it’s cute and calming and Mingi loves cute and calming things). </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After returning home for his second year, he came to realize how difficult it would be for him to meet new people. It certainly didn’t help that his fellow students would gravitate to each other like bees to honey whenever he spent time on campus. All of them had already formed their own circle of friends, tight-knit and certainly not needing a plus one. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And so, poor Mingi, solemn but determined, spends the first month of his second year much like the previous one: alone, jittery, awkward and desperately trying to keep himself occupied. It’s not all bad, however: this year, they’re covering Shakespearean plays and Elizabethan theatre in his Literature 201 class. It excites him, makes his heart thrum in his chest whenever his english teacher recites a passage with fervent passion. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For this year’s final project, you will be presenting one of these plays at the end-of-the-year festival. The play will be chosen through voting next week, so think good and hard before you make your choice!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi taps the end of his mechanical pencil on the desk repeatedly, foot bumping up and down as if he’s working on a sewing machine. A play? He'd never been much of a ‘theatre’ kid in high school and so he has no idea how his body will react if he ever stands in front of a crowd and simply dares to open his mouth. His deep voice will not be doing him any favors. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Once the play has been chosen, we're going to be collaborating with the Fine Arts and the Fashion Design department. It’s going to be a big production, everyone!” Mingi’s professor is an old, chubby lady with kind eyes and an even kinder heart. She always wears bright, juxtaposing color combinations, like many of his art teachers in elementary school. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The general impression his classmates give off is nothing short of ‘unimpressed’. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Participating in the play is optional, however I encourage you to do so! It’s definitely the experience of a lifetime…” a few sighs echo in the room and she decides to try a different approach, “However, if you do end up participating, I will make sure to add two marks in your final exam to account for your hard work. Learning Shakespeare isn’t about deciphering the monologues, it’s about experiencing his work virtually!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bell rings and everyone scrams out of class. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">From what Mingi has already figured out, Shakespeare’s plays include a prologue in the beginning in which he promptly spoils the entire fucking plot. He remembers his professor mentioning how, even though the audience knows the exact turn of events, nothing actually begins until Act One. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Surprisingly, Mingi feels as if he <em>knows </em>the exact moment <em>his </em>Act One commences. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Large flare sleeves, much like the heavy curtains of a theatre stage woosh by him, bringing a refreshing gust of wind across his cheeks. “Oh no, please tell me I didn’t spill your drink!” A slightly high-pitched voice startles him as he waits in line in the cafeteria. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It takes him a few seconds to realize what’s going on: the bleached blond dude, who’s wearing a beautiful flare shirt with small embroidered jewelry almost knocked his chocolate milk over. “Oh, um, no, don’t worry about it!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck, I'm the worst, I almost ruined your jumper— oh, <em>wow</em>, that’s a gorgeous knit!” the young man mutters, fingers tracing the chunky nit patterns of Mingi’s turtleneck, “This looks so vintage, where did you get this?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, uh, my mom made it for my brother but now that I’m older it finally fits me,” he subconsciously fixes the hem of his jumper, nudging the guy’s hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, shit, I'm sorry!” he exclaims, and Mingi notices he’s wearing a matching pair of dangly, pearl earrings, “Honestly, this is the worst introduction ever, first I make you uncomfortable about your clothes and then I fucking grope you, San’s right, I really am way too much sometimes…” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s fine, don’t worry about it!” this might actually be the longest conversation Mingi’s had in over a year, and he’s incredibly excited and scared that he’ll jinx it. “Mingi. I'm Mingi?” <em>And he just did. </em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The student looks up at him, “Of course! I’m Wooyoung! We should probably move because the line is way ahead of us!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What? Oh!” the two of them move their trays, grabbing their lunch and something sweet to eat as well. Once they’re finally out of the queue, Wooyoung doesn’t miss a beat before grabbing Mingi’s wrist and dragging him towards an already occupied table, “There’s people—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes! They're my friends!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi is then brought in front of table at the far end of the cafeteria where a bunch of people are sitting together, chatting and being very touchy-feely with each other. There are books and magazines spread on the table in between their lunches and drinks, their fingers tracing over information and pictures — Mingi notices most of them have varying shades of nail polish on them. They talk over each other with huge smiles on their faces, similar to how pack animals interact, teasing but harmless. And there’s a sense of belonging radiating in the air that Mingi aches for. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Everyone! Stop what you’re doing right now and pay attention to me!” Wooyoung shouts and Mingi feels as if this is something that happens more than often with the way all of them turn to look at him, “This is Mingi! Look at his sweater!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Oh no. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wooyoungie! That's so pretty!” Another character enters the scene who also looks extremely pretty. There are fingerprint-shaped marks of paint and coal all over his cheeks and he’s wearing overalls that are equally unclean, stained with color that’s probably been there for years, soaking through the denim. His hair is dark with a few fringes at the front colored a faded seaweed green. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Will you two calm down for once —“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi, your jumper is gorgeous. I’m Hongjoong!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Oh.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Amidst all of the on-going chaos, Mingi’s attention focus shifts and locks on Hongjoong, his gaze lasting a bit longer than a few seconds but it feels like hours pass. The guy is sporting a dirty blond mullet that curls around his neck and face and compliments his cinnamon skin in the best way possible. Multiple shiny piercings adorn his ears and pendants around his neck. He certainly hasn’t seen anyone in his classes with such an interesting appearance. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let the man sit down and eat his lunch!” Hongjoong orders, and fuck, Mingi gets a wonderful view of pointy teeth and a predatory smile. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The last person sitting on the table — Seonghwa, as Mingi later finds out — is the eldest of the group, a third year theatre student. He’s kind of quiet and there’s a calm aura that exudes from him. He’s also very handsome, in a prince-like way with his raven hair styled in a quaff. Without anyone noticing but Mingi, Seonghwa cuts up bits of fruit from his lunch (mostly strawberries and pieces of tangerines) and distributes them evenly between the group. When he reaches Mingi’s plate, the second year tries to object, only to get even more strawberries piled on his plate, along with a soft smile. Seonghwa leans towards Hongjoong and whispers something in his ear. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wooyoung and San seem to feed off of each other’s energy, and also feed each other their lunches and also touching at all given times. “Sannie, strawberry!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sannie, strawberry~” Hongjoong whines, imitating Wooyoung’s pout, “Oi, Mingi-yah, these two are insufferable, I’m so sorry you have to see that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi smiles shyly. Wooyoung and San’s friendship (relationship?) is very endearing. But Mingi is also very touch-starved. “It’s okay, I don’t mind…”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, sweetheart!” Hongjoong says shocked, reaching out to bump Mingi’s nose. “I promise you, the more time you spend with them, the more annoying they become. You’ll see.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just as they’re about to continue their conversation, a bell chimes in the cafeteria. Many students scramble to push their empty trays into their carts and grab their books for the next lesson, “That’s not fair, I didn’t get to finish my juice…” San whines, “Say, Mingi, let’s walk with you to your class!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi’s hair bounces, “You don’t have to do that! I have to walk all the way to Building B to get to the amphitheater—“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Our studios are just behind Building B, it’s really no problem!” Wooyoung adds.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, what? I’ve never been there before, I thought there was only a fence behind Building B.” Mingi murmurs, “What do you study there?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Me and Wooyoungie are in Fashion Design and San is in Fine Arts, but the two departments share the studio spaces.” Well, that explains how creative those three are with their clothing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The group walks through campus all huddled together, San sipping on the rest of his apple juice. It’s October and even though some days are still warm, in this part of the country winter is rapidly creeping in; the biting cold air that kisses your cheeks even through your scarf, wet leaves and the permeating aroma of the rain, grayish clouds that cover the sky like a fluffy blanket for miles and miles unending, heavy, with the promise of a storm. Mingi stays silent, opting to observe how the rest of the group interacts. San and Seonghwa remain silent while the other two cackle over some inside joke, swaying their hands front and back like little kids going on a walk. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they finally reach the entrance of the building, Mingi expects them to greet him and go on their merry way. Instead, they insist on walking him to his class. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And see, this building houses mostly classical academia and law students, all very good in their own ways, but quite similar in the way they carry themselves: simple, determined and not really bothering to explore their artistic horizons. Which is why when Mingi starts walking down the corridor, seemingly escorted by a group of art students, his cheeks get red with the stares people keep giving them. His new acquaintances don’t seem to mind; Hongjoong in particular, even though he’s the shortest out of everyone in the group, struts with confidence at the front, leading the way. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wow, I’ve never been on this part of campus before,” San says, looking around. “Looks very vintage.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They reach Mingi’s amphitheater soon enough. The professor hasn't arrived yet, but many of the students have already found their seats, so he’ll probably have to sit at the back. He takes out his glasses from his backpack. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Glasses suit you a lot.” Hongjoong tells him. There’s smudged kohl around his eyes, just enough to make them slanted and mysterious as he looks up at Mingi, “They give you a cute flair.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thankfully, his professor arrives just in time to save him from the mortifying ordeal of being called ‘cute’. He thanks them for their company during lunch and gives them a shy wave before scurrying to his seat. When he sits down, all of them still sit by the entrance as more students rush in, waving back before getting shooed out by his professor shutting the door. It takes Mingi an hour to finally be able to concentrate on his lesson — there’s a bubbling feeling in his chest, a sense of anticipation, a small flame crackling, announcing the beginning of something new. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">
    
  </span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Things seem to change after that encounter. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For one, and Mingi will never admit this to anyone, he starts seeking his new friends out. Walking from one building to another, his eyes search in the crowd for vibrant-colored clothes, bleached hair — a mullet — and loud cackling voices mainly belonging to San and Wooyoung. What he will also not admit to anyone, not even himself, is that he even resorts to search for them on Instagram, which proves quite hard since he doesn’t know any of their full names. Many sleep-deprived nights are spent with the soft glow of his phone screen as his company. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he finally finds Seonghwa’s account, it’s like he’s hit the jackpot. His feed is all soft, muted colors, a perfect balance between nature shots and personal pictures, either candid ones taken during his rehearsals in beautiful moody lighting, or selfies with cute filters on them. From his profile he manages to find the rest of them; San’s account is an accumulation of all of his artistic expressions: pictures of hand-written poems, oil studies of nude figures in the studio, snapshots of him working. There's also a few blurry pictures of group gatherings, piles of friends on couches with drinks and food. The most recent one, however, is just him and Wooyoung, wrapped around each other like koalas, content smiles on their faces. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He clicks on Wooyoung’s tag and there are only three posts: a selfie, a picture of San sleeping in the late afternoon, judging by the soft orange glow hitting his half-covered body, and the view of his bedroom window. It looks like he lives a few minutes away from their university, because he can clearly recognized the buildings in the short distance. Mingi quickly shuts off his phone: stalking their online presence feels a bit invasive when they’ve only ever hard one encounter. Can he even consider them his friends? It’s been a week and a half and he hasn’t bumped into them yet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finally, he can’t help himself and opens his phone again, finding Hongjoong’s profile. It’s filled with pictures of himself standing in front of a mirror and showing off his outfits, candid shots of him working in the studio, his <em>tattoos</em>, his sketches, artistic close-ups of his face that are just too much for Mingi to handle. It doesn’t help that he captions his posts with so many emojis of rainbows and hearts and butterflies that turn Mingi’s heart to mush. Despite all of that, the second year is absolutely stunned at Hongjoong’s work; he shares his process, pictures of thematic mood boards that apparently serve as his inspiration for each piece of clothing — dark burgundy tones, lacy textures and glints of silver and golden thread that give his fabrics a regal, gothic feel. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His most recent post is a completed outfit on a mannequin, with several pins attached to the seems: a full suit made of dark orange velvet, dangerously tight at the waist, with military inspired gold buttons — but once it reaches the hem of the jacket, the fabric is ripped apart, seems hanging messily, an underlay of black lace escaping the velvet fabric to hang down like a short skirt. As for the pants, the velvet fabric is also torn at the sides, then sewn again in a corset-like manner, the mannequin’s felt fabric peeking through. It’s very editorial and unconventional, but it’s also very <em>Hongjoong</em>, Mingi thinks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Without thinking about it, he follows all four of them. And then he promptly falls asleep, because being embarrassed about his need for new friends is a problem for morning Mingi to solve. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">
    
  </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s a sunny, cold morning the next time he meets them. Granted, not all of them, but Seonghwa and San sipping coffee. They’re perched on a brick wall near the entrance of campus that’s still moist from yesterday’s storm and with green moss slowly taking over the bricks. “Mingi!” Seonghwa calls to him, and Mingi beams. He rarely drinks coffee — and also rarely climbs brick walls at 7:37 am — but he sips from San’s cup, face wrinkling at the lack of sugar, and swings his legs from where he’s perched with them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m so tired!” San complains, “And my back is fucking killing me. I didn’t get to finish my work last night and had to bring my canvas home. Took all night and I barely slept, but at least I finished this one on its due date.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sannie here doesn’t really have a grasp on the concept of time and deadlines.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As if I’m the only college student who’s sleep deprived and a deadline away from a mental breakdown.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve never had a problem with my essays…” Seonghwa says behind his coffee cup.<br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You liar, shut the fuck up —“ San yells, pushing at the third year’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You brat!” he says and pushes back but he’s laughing, and Mingi is caught in between the two bickering and pushing at each other. This back and forth cause all three of them to sway and lose their balance, almost slipping off the wall until Mingi extends his arms and wraps them both in his embrace, pulling back so that they all don’t tumble down three meters on the grass which would be quite uncomfortable on their asses. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Woah…” San murmurs, “Fuck that was close,” he turns to Mingi, “You’re so… broad, dude.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Next time don’t be a fucking brat and almost send us down the hill,” Seonghwa scolds him, “Thank you, Mingi! We should probably start heading to class…” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah…” the second year blushes, detangling his long noodle arms from the two boys. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They let off San halfway down their walk to part ways since he’s heading towards the studios, “Oh, I almost forgot!” he says right before he takes off, “Mingi, want to come over at our place tonight?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Oh!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s Friday so we’re ordering pizza and watching really cheesy horror movies that San is forcing us to. Please join us so we can forcefully tie him to a chair and actually watch something interesting and well made.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay first of all, you’re coming to my place and using my tv so fuck you. Second of all, I’m watching them for research you idiot,” he turns to Mingi, “We’re learning how to make props in one of my classes!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’d love to come!” the second year breathes out with a smile. The other two smile back in glee and they arrange to meet up in front of the studios after Mingi’s final lecture at 7pm. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course, the second year passes the entire day absolutely jittery and in anticipation. Most of his notes during class look like a jumbled mess, but he promises himself to make up for it by studying harder at home. When his professor finally dismisses them at 7:02 pm, he grabs his stuff and scurries out of the building, jogging through the misty nighttime campus. There are only a few classrooms still having lessons, as he can see the lights in the top of floors of the buildings, but for the most part, students are already having dinner in the cafeteria or back at their dorms and apartments. There are only a few street lights the further he approaches the studios — he doesn’t usually spend much time outside during the night (mostly because he doesn’t have anywhere to go) and so the silence starts to become a bit unsettling. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thankfully, there’s a familiar figure perched on the bench. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi-yah! Honestly, I’m going to kill them! Seonghwa still isn’t finished with his rehearsal and San and Wooyoung have fucked off to God knows where — I leave them alone for five minutes to put back my stuff and they’re gone!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi chuckles nervously, “Have you been waiting alone for a while?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A bit, yeah, but now I have you to keep me company,” thank fuck it’s so dark because Mingi’s cheeks are flaming, “By the way, you should have sent me a dm on Insta! I didn’t realize you followed me until like, a few minutes ago. You have no pictures at all!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I haven’t had the time to take any —“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Here!” Hongjoong grabs him and makes him sit next to him on the bench, then takes out his phone, “Let’s take one now!” Mingi’s pretty sure the third year can feel the heat radiating from how flushed his cheeks have gotten as they both make peace signs and the camera flash goes off. The picture looks kind of blurry like the ones San posts, but Mingi loves it — it looks spontaneous, and there’s a glimpse of Hongjoong’s cute canines. “Give me your phone number and I’ll send it to you!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And this is how Mingi ends up having Kim Hongjoong’s phone number in his (brief) contact list — other than his family and cousins. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s a half hour later that Seonghwa does show up, wrapped in a wool coat but with sweat coating his sideburns because of his intense theatre class. San and Wooyoung also show up as well — equally flushed and sweaty, and Hongjoong screeches about how they should really stop fucking in the public bathrooms when they share a whole-ass apartment — and the gang starts walking towards said whole-ass apartment. They engage in small talk that echoes through the empty neighborhood streets around campus, safe for Seonghwa’s short-heeled boots click-clacking on the pavement. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right,” San claps his hands together. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wooyoung and him have a ground floor apartment in an old building just a few minutes from campus.The walls are high, however, covered in posters and pictures of each other, messily taped on the concrete and on their fridge. There is no couch, so all five of them will have to pile up on their shared bed with many pillows stacked up to make it cosy. Their bedroom space also includes a tiny kitchen with a sink that's surprisingly not filled with dirty plates and cups. The cutest part about it, other than the fact that it reeks ‘love-nest’ vibes, is a small backyard attached to their apartment: it’s a little run-down, definitely needs some cleaning and some of the plants look yellow and dehydrated, but San reasons that they haven’t had the time to fix it up after moving in, and opted to thread some fairy lights through the wooden fence surrounding their yard. It currently houses a few of San’s paintings that need to dry. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi helps Wooyoung cut off the tops of the pizza boxes while Hongjoong takes some glasses and a bottle of white wine from the fridge. The pizzas are warm and smell so cheesy and Mingi’s mouth is salivating because he never really orders takeout and hasn’t had pizza in so long. There’s the spicy pepperoni kind and one with mushrooms and vegetables and — </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not touching that,” he grimaces and points at the pineapple and ham pizza before realizing he’s spoken out loud and brings a hand to his mouth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong cackles, “A man after my own heart,” he winks at him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re both idiots and it’s fine because I get to share this whole pizza with my boyfriend,” Wooyoung says.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I like pineapple pizza!” Seonghwa calls from the pillow nest on the bed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can have one piece because you’ve been nice to me for more than an hour.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They all sit cross legged on the bed (it’s more of a mattress, to be honest) while San presents their options, all rented movies on dvd. They all date back to the 80’s and almost all of them feature some sort of undead creature haunting a town. “So, <em>‘The Return of the Unreturned’</em>,<em> ‘My Husband is a Zombie?’ </em>or <em>‘Wolfman’s Desire’ </em>?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The last one sounds like it has furries in it.” Seonghwa remarks with a tone-deaf voice and Wooyoung cackles. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They end up going with the zombie husband one which doesn’t give much up to imagination for what’s going to happen. It starts off calm enough, but very early on the fake gore and splatter begins and after that it almost never stops. San is pushing pizza into his mouth with one hand and taking notes with another, mumbling to himself about the props and how the production has probably made them. Wooyoung is lying on the bed in front of him on his side, letting out screams whenever a jump scare startles him but refusing to get his eyes off the screen. Seonghwa keeps talking all the fucking time, which is something that Hongjoong keeps whining about <em>‘“You always fucking do this, stop talking already!’” </em>but it honestly calms Mingi down, because he’s way more scared than he ever thought he would be. The movie is objectively cheesy with hilariously bad acting that Seonghwa keeps on ranting about, but it’s managed to spook Mingi quite a bit more than he’s usually comfortable with. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the middle of the movie, Mingi wishes he’d taken his glasses off before this so that his vision would be blurry enough to not get scared by another zombified actor jumping into the scene, so much so that he’s leaning into Hongjoong. The third year is much smaller than Mingi’s tall and broad frame, but that doesn’t stop him from wrapping his arm around the younger’s shoulders, “C’mere big guy,” Hongjoong says, “Movie got you spooked?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi has to lie a bit further down on the bed to the point where his legs are hanging off the mattress, but Hongjoong’s clothes smell like fresh laundry and deodorant. The bottom tips of his mullet are touching his forehead, his hand around his shoulders is resting on Mingi’s chest, all his pretty rings that have iridescent stones and intricate silver designs on them and it even matches his opal colored nails —</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s all a bit too much, and when Mingi looks back at the screen he’s missed a good chunk of the movie. Nothing’s changed much, but now there’s another single mom slashing zombies along with the protagonist's wife. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please tell me they’re lesbians,” says Wooyoung. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fucking finally,” Hongjoong murmurs softly when the wife finally grabs her long skirt and rips it at thigh-level to be able to run quicker, “For how cheesy this is, the 50’s setting and the clothes are actually very authentic.” Mingi hums in agreement without giving it much thought. Hesitantly, his left hand leans over and rests shyly on Hongjoong’s torso, just barely touching his jumper. “Hm, cute…” the third year brings him closer, so that Mingi’s hand cradles his waist — his tiny, slender waist. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">By the time the movie is over all of the pizza boxes are empty, Wooyoung has committed to ranting about the feminist values of this otherwise horrible movie while Seonghwa is going on about how the acting was the most cringe-worthy interpretation he’s ever seen. San is yawning and ready to fall asleep, from what it seems, right on top of Wooyoung who’s still talking. All of them have ended up into a sort of puppy pile, cushioned comfortably against one another. The soft pitter-patter of the rain against the wooden tiles of the backyard almost lulls Mingi to sleep. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The thought of having to walk back to his dorm is exhausting. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s ten minutes past midnight…” Seonghwa observes, “I have rehearsals tomorrow starting at 7, fuck.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I need to get back to my dorm…” Mingi says.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Doesn’t campus lock down after midnight though?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry, what?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The main entrance gets locked after midnight,” San mumbles as he steps out of bathroom, dressed in his pajamas with small cream blobs on various spots on his face. “How come you don’t know that if you live in the dorms?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi scratches his head, “I’ve never stayed out this late.” <em>I’ve never stayed out late, period.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We can probably sneak you in from the back entrance,” Hongjoong says, “I hope you don’t mind trespassing.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi gulps. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They say their goodbyes with San and Wooyoung already crawling under the covers,<em> ‘“Just lock the door with the key under the mat, Hongjoongie…”</em>, and start walking up the road. It’s empty and raining slightly, but not enough to blur Mingi’s glasses. The neighborhood around the university mimics its architecture: vintage, 20th century style short buildings with cute details and overgrown gardens that bloom with rose bushes during the spring, curling around the wooden picket fences. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You remember where the back entrance is exactly?” Seonghwa asks, teeth chattering. Mingi walks in between the two third years and he can feel the poor guy trembling in his way too thin leather jacket. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re like five minutes away,” Hongjoong assures him, “It’s opposite of that cemetery with the victorian-style mausoleums.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A cemetery?” asks Mingi. He’s suddenly quite chilly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can go visit it during the day,” the third year says, “The tombs are very beautifully preserved and there are some actual nobles buried there —“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hongjoongie used to hang out in there when he was a wee little first year, all sad and lonely away from home,” Seonghwa pipes up, but Mingi can see that Hongjoong doesn’t take it to heart, smiling genuinely before poking out his tongue at him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It makes him wonder, imagining Hongjoong like that. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They finally reach the back entrance; it consists of a small iron door (locked) in between the ongoing brick wall. “I mean, from this way, the wall is shorter,” Hongjoong reasons. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, so,” Mingi thinks, “Seonghwa and I can probably jump over it,” he turns to Hongjoong, showing off his palms, “Want a push-up?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The icy smile he gets sends a shiver down his spine, “You’re lucky you’re a genuinely good person and you’re not being a brat.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Seonghwa’s cackle echoes into the night. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They soon make it to the dorms’ building entrance — which is thankfully unlocked. “Um, you should probably start heading back soon, the rain’s only going to get more intense,” Mingi says as the sound of thunder warns them from afar. “I… I had so much fun today. Thank you for inviting me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, Seonghwa, we need to keep him, he’s actually nice compared to the rest of you!” Hongjoong jokes, then turns serious, “We have a lot of fun together, Mingi-yah. Let’s hang out more, hm?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi keeps thinking about Hongjoong’s smile when he said that in his dorm until he falls asleep. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">
    
  </span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yuhno comes into Mingi’s life about a month later, but he meets Yeosang first. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sits next to Seonghwa during lunch when Mingi brings his tray over to their designated table — it’s a very cold day today and there’s vegetable soup and Mingi is <em>excited</em>. “Mingi-yah!” Hongjoong shouts with his mouth full of rice, bringing him closer, “You haven’t met Yeosangie over here, have you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yeosang has a neutral expression on his face, “I’m Yeosang, nice to meet you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m Mingi, nice to meet you too!” Mingi smiles. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeosang is a theatre student like Seonghwa but he’s your age,” Hongjoong continues, in the tone that his mom used to use when he was younger and she was arranging play dates for him. The third year is wearing a beanie today, fit for the weather, with hand sewn flower patches around the hem. “Mm, this is so good, I haven’t eaten since last night.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi gasps, “You didn’t eat breakfast?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He also hasn’t slept since last night,” Wooyoung mentions, “He’s pulling an all-nighter for the third time this week.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Way to give me away, you brat.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You deserve it,” Seonghwa pipes in, “Now you can have Mingi to nag you about getting more sleep.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My clothes take time to finish —“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You just have no idea how to manage your time.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please don’t fight, I’m trying to have my lunch.” Yeosang interjects, sipping on his soup. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now that Mingi takes a better look at him, Hongjoong does look extremely tired; his cheeks are devoid of their usual peachy glow, dark circles under his eyes that make them droop downwards and don’t look as alert as usual. On his lunch tray, he just has rice and one bowl of soup, “You should eat more,” Mingi says and without thinking, he gets up and grabs another tray, filling it with another bowl of soup and some fruit and crackers. He places it in front of his friend, “Please eat this as well.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong looks at him with a look of disbelief before picking up a few crackers and dipping them into his soup. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wow, okay…” San says, “He doesn’t usually listen to anyone when we tell him to eat more.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi’s a sweetheart.” Hongjoong says with a mouth full of food, “Unlike all of you, I don’t know why I put up with you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yeosang doesn't talk much during their lunch, but Mingi can at least figure out that him and Seonghwa have a close relationship — in the way that San and Wooyoung have. There’s the prolonged stares, the third year taking care of the younger by wrapping an arm around his back for a moment and giving him a pat; however, they both seem to be closed off; unsure, not ready yet to lean into each other like Wooyoung and San do. Mingi has spent much of his time observing other people, so he’s pretty confident about his gut instinct. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lunch ends, and next up is his English Literature class. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m very sad,” his professor says, bless her little heart. Everyone’s being an asshole about this play and less than ten people — including Mingi — have raised their hands to participate in it. “But I suppose standing on the big stage isn’t for everyone. Don't worry, our lessons will not interfere with rehearsals, as those will be held on the weekends. I will ask all of you that raised your hands to meet with me after class ends to discuss the details.” Mingi’s never seen her show so much sorrow in so little time, but thankfully it doesn’t last long before she’s her cheerful self again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Class ends at 7 and it’s been dark for hours now, the yellowish lights of the classroom making Mingi feel sleepy and sluggish. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right! I apologize for the dismissive behavior of your classmates — I really don’t understand why they wouldn’t wish to participate in something so creative! Well, at any rate, I suppose I can finally tell you with play was chosen!” she pauses for dramatic effect, “You’re going to be presenting ‘Hamlet’! Dark, emotional, truly an ode to the human psyche, don’t you think?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi looks around the room. Apart from him, only six other students are going to participate. That’s a very small amount of people for such a grandiose play. Not that he’s ever read ‘Hamlet’; he mostly indulges in the light-hearted, romantic works of fiction that just so happen to be literary masterpieces: <em>Romeo and Juliet, Pride and Prejudice, Great Expectations…</em> Dark and gothic was never his thing anyway. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he comes back to reality, his professor is passing out information sheets about the play, the characters, the setting and the overall themes. “Think about which character you want to portray and we’ll begin reading out the script next week to assign roles!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey,” a voice says behind him as he walks up to his desk to get his stuff, “Mingi, right?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turns around and he’s met with a pair of brown puppy eyes and a good few centimeters taller than him — both of which he doesn’t expect. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi—Mingi is me,” he says, startled, “Wait, have we met?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not really — I just moved in to the dorm next to yours, then saw your name at the register on the desk, then the professor called you… I just put two and two together,” the boy says, “I’m Yunho.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yunho! So, wait, are you a first year then?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, no, same age as you. I just attended online classes throughout the first year as part of my transfer program. I’ll complete the rest of my studies on campus.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, that’s cool! Um, whatever you need, just ask me! I’ve been living in the dorms for over a year now.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yunho gives him another gentle smile before his features morph into an uncomfortable frown, “Please tell me you know how to fix my fucking shower.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And that’s how Mingi finds himself in Yunho’s dorm room at 10:32 pm. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whenever this happens, you just kinda have to,” he knocks the shower head on the bathroom tiles, “hit it into place again. The bathrooms generally malfunction a lot, but they’re easy to fix, trust me, you don’t want to spend your money on a plumber, they’ll just rob you —“ Mingi turns around to see Yunho perched up on the toilet seat, hand resting on his chin, gazing at him with sleepy eyes, “You okay?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mm? Yeah, I just wanted to say — <em>Fucking shit!” </em>Yunho screeches at the top of his lungs, pointing at the corner of his shower. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Mingi sees it, he grabs Yunho’s hand and rushes out of the tiny bathroom, closing the door behind him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the fuck, we can’t just leave it there —“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m gonna call someone,” Mingi reassures him, “to take care of it because I’m not touching that thing.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong shows up twenty minutes later in a pair of overalls and crocs, with a stare that could kill anyone within a few centimeters’ radius. “Mingi-yah…” he sighs, “I’m only doing this because you’re sweet.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If I may add, I am also very sweet. Plus that bug is in my bathroom, so I would be very indebted to you if you could just —“ Yunho starts. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You called me here to kill a fucking bug?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ll buy you dinner!” Yunho shouts. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, yes we will!” Mingi agrees, “Just, please take care of it for us.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong looks at them both as if they’ve just offered to pay off his tuition. With a newfound sense of determination, he takes off his right croc and enters the bathroom as quiet as a cat, ready to kill. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yunho insists, after the body has been thrown out of his second-story window (wrapped in a napkin), that they soak the damn croc in a bowl of disinfectant. Hongjoong reluctantly agrees after Mingi orders a bunch of delicious treats from that Mediterranean take-out place the third year always mentions during lunch. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck, that’s so good, Mingi,” Hongjoong hums when he takes a bite out of his falafel wrap. If Mingi could shoot out steam from his ears with how his cheeks are boiling — “So, how do you two know each other?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We met like… a few hours ago,” says Mingi, “He’s in my major!” he turns to look at Yunho. The three of them are sat on his single bed, food wrappers and containers all over the place. The two boys engage in mild conversation and he zones out, looking around the room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yunho’s room is kind of hectic and packed but in an organized way— there's all sorts of knick-knacks on his desk: leather-bound books, glass bottles propped on his window sill with flower stems. Small succulents and plants that droop down to his floor. Next to his bed, there’s a small cupboard with many colorful candles and shiny crystals in a neat, organized circle. Vintage posters and small tapestries adorn the walls from top to bottom and a string of small lights circle the bed frame. Mingi feels as if he’s just stepped into a witch’s kitchen.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You like my room?” Yunho’s hand rests on Mingi’s knee, snapping him out of his daydream. He sees his blush and laughs, “It’s alright! You can snoop around if you want, although I haven’t finished decorating yet.” Mingi focuses on devouring his salad for the time being. “How did you two meet? Are you a first year, Hongjoong?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi doesn’t have time to warn his new friend before the other croc from Hongjoong’s foot flies straight onto his forehead. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Apparently disrespecting the third year is the only qualification required to be added to their little group of friends because from the moment Mingi meets Yunho, the two become inseparable. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>joongie~ has added jeong yunho to the groupchat </em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]: </b>omg finally! </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>woowoo has changed jeong yunho’s nickname to ‘yunhoho’ </em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhoho]: </b>hi! ♡~* </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[sannie]:</b> cute! hearts hearts hearts! ♡♡♡</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> @joongie~ you left your scissors at my place last night pls pick them up i almost stabbed myself wtf </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[joongie~]:</b> fuck my fabric scissors! i thought i lost them n had a mental breakdown earlier thank you </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> what were you doing in seonghwa’s place last night hongjoongie?? and with scissors no less… :) </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[joongie~]:</b> tf is wrong with you </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[sannie]:</b> no no no lets talk about this other person who's been staying at your place almost every night!!! </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> ??</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[mingki]:</b> is this about yeosang </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> MI N G I </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> i fucking KJNEW IT!!! sannie love of my life you owe me and mingi five bucks each </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[sannie]:</b> no i owe mingi five bucks bc we live together and we share everything ♡</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> i want my five bucks!! </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> mingi wtf </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhoho]:</b> who’s yeosang? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[joongie~]:</b> seonghwa’s protegé huehuehue </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[mingki]:</b> he’s a second year theatre student and he’s friends with seonghwa </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> ah friends is that what they call it these days?? SANNIE IS MY BFF </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> you're literally younger than me </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[sannie]:</b> are you two fucking? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[mingki]:</b> um </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> NO okay can you all just fucking stop</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> i’m helping him out with his theatre practice and sometimes he comes to my place when we don’t have time during his breaks </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> and then you fuck?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> i will block you </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[mingki]:</b> if you guys are dating i will support that seonghwa! yeosang is a bit intimidating but he’s very polite! </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[joongie~]:</b> you pure summer child </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> what if i add him to this gc then?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> IM BLOCKING YOU </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhoho]:</b> hey seonghwa even if you don’t want to date him and you are just having sex that’s fine! we shouldn’t be ashamed of our carnal pleasures </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[sannie]:</b> what </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[mingki]:</b> that sounded beautiful yunho! </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>woowoo has changed yunhoho’s nickname to yunhohoe </em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>☾</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who wants to be Horatio, then?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A week later finds Mingi, Yunho and a small group of their classmates in their professor’s office. They’re sat on the floor in a circle, assigning roles and doing a basic reading of the script. Mingi and Yunho both raise their hands. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh! We have two volunteers!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, um. It’s okay Yunho, you can be Horatio!” Mingi says selflessly without thinking. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Great! That leaves you, Mingi! You’re going to be our Hamlet!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Fuck. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>☾</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t do it!” Mingi cries out at San and Wooyoung’s apartment a few hours later. He’s already downed a bottle of beer and it shouldn’t be making him this lightheaded already, but he’s so embarrassed just at the idea of stepping on that stage and speaking out loud. During the script reading, he kept stuttering over the simplest words, so much so that his professor offered him a glass of water, bless her heart. He tried to convince her to switch roles with Yunho after their meeting ended, but for some reason Yunho was adamant about Mingi playing Hamlet. His professor, probably upon looking at his friend’s innocent smile, wholeheartedly agreed, telling him that they would work on his lines many <em>many</em> times before the final performance, so he had nothing to worry about! </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Nothing to worry about! </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure you can,” Seonghwa says. He’s in the kitchen stirring a big hot pot full of vegetables and meat that even its smell is enough to make everyone salivate, “It’s not that it’s an easy role, mind you. Hamlet is one of the most difficult characters to portray, especially if you haven’t experienced such anguish yourself. You’ll have to reach deep into the agony of your own soul to —“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re going to send him into a panic attack!” Hongjoong yelps. His hand comes to ruffle Mingi’s fluffy tufts of hair. “You really need a trim, Mingi-yah… I can give you one, if you want.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think he’s going to be fine,” Yunho smiles, pinching Mingi’s cheek. And, well, just when the second year was becoming used to Hongjoong’s tendency for cuddling and overall friendly (?) skin-ship, it turns out Yunho is an even bigger cuddle monster. His heart’s going to burst one of these days. “Sometimes, we need to come face to face with our biggest fears in order to develop spiritually.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure!” says Wooyoung, not really listening at all, “Hey, let me — fuck!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hands off!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re using my kitchen!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I bought all of these ingredients myself! If it was up to you I would have had to use wine and that one expired can of beans you keep in your fridge like a science experiment!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re all eating from that, you know. It’s not just your boyfriend — Ah! Sannie, save me!” he screams when Seonghwa turns around with the scorching wooden spoon and tries to smack him with it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh, yeah; they’re expecting Yeosang this time around. It’s Yunho’s third time at the apartment but the guy, despite his cheekiness at times, is very polite and San has to ask him to <em>please</em> make himself comfortable instead of sitting like he has a stick up his ass. Yunho retorts by saying he wouldn’t really be uncomfortable with something up his ass and Mingi has to go to the bathroom, funny how that works! </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yunho has also brought with him a brown paper bag that was quite heavy to hold and its contents made quite a bit of noise as they walked from campus to the apartment, “I should have given this to you when I first visited, but I didn’t have the time. I found out from Mingi that you just moved into this apartment, so I’m giving you my blessings for a prosperous and joyous stay!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">San and Wooyoung almost burst into tears, ruffling his hair and jumping onto the bag like vultures. Inside, Yunho has put in a small succulent plant, a small bottle of wine, a packet of rice, a jar of honey, three candle sticks and a handwritten note with a beautiful watercolor drawing on it — of wildflowers underneath a starry sky <em>‘For San and Wooyoung — Yunho.’</em>“That is the most beautiful gift! Yunho! Thank you for restocking our pantry!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You two are so dense sometimes,” Hongjoong complains. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay, I don’t mind!” Yunho laughs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um, am I missing something?” Mingi says hesitantly. His eyes were too focused on Yunho’s pretty, long fingers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yunho practices Wicca.” Hongjoong explains, “He didn’t just go to the supermarket for you idiots — his gifts have meaning!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And how would you know?” Wooyoung asks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yunho told me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh…” Mingi suddenly feels kind of left out; He doesn’t have ownership over any of his friends, so why does the thought of Hongjoong and Yunho talking with each other without him makes a knot form at the back of his throat. He has been spending almost every waking moment with the two of them when they can’t meet all together. Why hasn’t Yunho mentioned something like this to him? Mingi would never judge! If anything, it makes him all the more intrigued about his new friend. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t mind!” Yunho repeats laughing, “I don’t ever mention it to others unless they ask me. Hongjoong talked to me about it after he saw my altar at my dorm because he found it interesting. You don’t have to feel weird about this! It's just something I wanted to do for you, since you just moved in together!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was at your dorm as well…” Mingi murmurs to himself out loud, “I never thought about it, um, I honestly don’t know much about that, but I’d love to! To be honest, I just thought you liked pretty things.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yunho turns to him, chuckling, “I do like pretty things as well, Mingi.” His gaze lingers a moment too long at Mingi’s face. Hongjoong watches them from afar without speaking. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yeosang arrives just in time for Seonghwa to get the hot pot off the stove. San and Wooyoung thankfully invested in a small IKEA table that takes up a lot of space in their small apartment but it makes eating much more comfortable. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This tastes so good, I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in weeks!” Wooyoung screams when he first gets a taste of his bowl of hot pot. There’s mushrooms and carrots and potatoes and some thinly sliced beef all swimming in a thick soup that warms Mingi’s entire being. “We should open Yunho’s wine! Oh, unless — are we supposed to drink it?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You idiots…” Hongjoong sighs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, no problem!” Yunho assures him, laughing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you tell us what the rest of the gifts mean?” Mingi asks politely. He catches Seonghwa filling up Yeosang’s bowl with the corner of his eye. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yunho agrees, settling into the pillow next to Mingi, so that the second year is fitted between Yunho and Hongjoong. “Okay, so, the wine bottle is the most common house-warming gift because you’re supposed to share it with your family and friends, and that brings good energy to the house. Your succulent has a green color which is very positive and will bless your home. The honey means that your life will be sweet together. And the rice is… well, the rice is to make sure your love will be fertile.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fertile in what way?” asks San. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In a sex kind of way.” Yunho replies and Yeosang chokes on his spoonful of soup. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And what about these?” Wooyoung shows off the three candle sticks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“These you can place in a small glass bottle and burn one at a time or three altogether — they smell amazing and are supposed to help you relax and unwind!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They smell so good!” San exclaims, “Yunho, you’re so sweet! Thanks!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re welcome!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dinner goes well; they never stop talking no matter how many times Seonghwa has to scold them about chewing with their mouths open. Yeosang is quiet, but doesn’t refrain from smiling or saying something snarky here and there. Every time he speaks, Seonghwa looks at him with utmost devotion. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi turns to Hongjoong, “How has your project been?” Amidst all of this, Hongjoong has been swimming in deadlines and doesn’t get much sleep; from the moment Mingi met him, he figured out the third year had a tendency to overwork himself until the last minute — the results were always extraordinary, but Mingi wishes he didn’t have to witness his friend falling asleep during lunch. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I finished the outfit two days ago and on Monday I’m presenting it. Which means I have no work to do for the entire weekend.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s great!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not great at all!” Hongjoong whines, “What the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t work on anything new on my own because I have no money for fabrics and the only thing I can do is sketch my ideas without being able to get my hands on a mannequin!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hongjoong is a very hands-on person…” San giggles, diving his chopsticks in the hot pot for a piece of meat. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You could just do nothing.” Yeosang suggests, “Just…sleep.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know how to do that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hongjoongie is a workaholic,” Wooyoung explains, “Once he gets to work I have to drag him out of the studio to get some food in him.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How about you, Wooyoung?” Yunho asks, “How is your work going?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I finished everything and I can finally sleep!” the second year exclaims, “Although, knowing me, I should probably start studying for midterms because I won’t get any studying done during the Christmas break.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wooyoungie and I are going back to his parents’ place for the holidays!” San grins, hugging his boyfriend, “We’ve already booked our train tickets and everything! I can’t wait to see your little brother, he’s so cute! And my mom and dad are going to drive down to his place on Boxing Day for lunch!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look at you two! Already middle-aged, aren’t you saving up for retirement?” Seonghwa teases them and Yeosang lets out a laugh. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Someone’s a little jealous… What about you, Seonghwa? Anyone on your mind recently?” Wooyoung bites back. The third year sits back and focuses on his plate. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh come on, don’t tease him. Not everyone’s ready for marriage like you two are.” Hongjoong chuckles. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Marriage’ seems like such a foreign word to Mingi. It feels so adult-like; a word that should probably go hand in hand with ‘taxes’ and ‘daycare’ and ‘bank statements’ and ‘car payments’. It’s alien, far into the distant future. What does he know about loving someone else? He knows of the things he’s read in books; the longing stares, the hushed whispers of love, the sacrifice, the unrequited romance, the forbidden touches. He knows of things he’s read in paper but has never had the chance to feel against his skin. And yet here, right in front of him, there’s two people his age who are experiencing a story-borne romance. Right in front of his hot pot. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There's an ache in his heart he can’t quite place. His gaze shifts from Yunho to Hongjoong. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wonders. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you so much for commenting and giving kudos! i really, really appreciate it and it makes me so happy to see that someone enjoyed my story! <br/>for the record, this chapter does contain depictions of panic attacks, with the provided comfort that's needed ♡ also, some spooky stuff. but nothing too serious! </p>
<p>all quotes and lines from 'hamlet' (indicated in italics) are derived from the sparknotes' website with the translated text of the play - i never thought i'd use it again after high school but here we go! </p>
<p>i'd love to read your thoughts and i hope you enjoy this chapter ♡♡♡</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Everyone,” his professor exclaims on that Monday evening, “Allow me to introduce you to Park Seonghwa! He is an incredibly talented third year from the theatre department that will be helping us as an assistant director for our play!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi feels Yunho giggle next to him, and he has to giggle as well. Seonghwa looks incredibly serious and intimidating in his black leather jacket, eyeing every single student like a hawk. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[song mingi]:</b> seonghwa just showed up in our theatre rehearsal?? he’s going to be the assistant director for it </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[kim hongjoong]:</b> AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[kim hongjoong]:</b> M I N G I </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[kim hongjoong]:</b> you poor souls </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[kim hongjoong]:</b> good luck you're def gonna need it lol </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I will kindly ask you to put your phones away,” Seonghwa speaks up in a sort of threatening manner, eyeing Mingi. He pauses, and sighs, “You need to understand that this will not be an easy feat. ‘Hamlet’ is, rightfully speaking, one of the greatest literary masterpieces. And I will not allow anyone to treat it as anything less than that.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Isn’t he amazing? I asked for help from his professor and he told me that if I have him by my side, our play is going to be a huge success!” Mingi hears his professor whisper to another student as Seonghwa continues his monologue about work ethic and pouring their souls into their roles. “Thank you, Seonghwa! We are so happy to have you here with us,” no one looks that happy, if Mingi’s being honest. His friend is kind of scaring him right now, “Now, since we have our director with us —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wasn’t he an assistant just a few moments ago?” Yunho murmurs in Mingi’s ear. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll take you all to the theatre where we will begin our rehearsals. I think Seonghwa will do a much better job than me in giving you a tour, so I’ll just leave it up to him!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And Seonghwa, with newfound power and authority, gives everyone a tour of the university theatre hall at the second floor of the main building. It’s not that big, but its neoclassical details and layout remind Mingi of European theatres and operas. Even the seats are made of red, velvet fabric! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The main stage is quite small, which means you will have to learn to control your movements while reciting your lines,” the third year explains, “And this is the backstage. Learning to draw the curtains at the right moment is also important and someone should be here at all times to help you with your props and your lines, if necessary.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What about our costumes?” a girl asks from the back of the group. Mingi remembers that she chose the role of Ophelia. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right, we should probably visit the vestry!” his teacher says, “From what I’m told, there are many costumes there from previous performances, but they’re not all of the best quality. We might have to consult someone from the Fashion Design department for that…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The vestry ends up being on the third floor, just above the theatre. It’s a hidden room inside another classroom, a cave of a storage unit that smells of dust and mould, with one single lightbulb that provides almost zero light. The concrete walls feel mysteriously wet. The costumes are hung in hangers and covered in plastic sheets that have gone yellow with time — or mould. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s certainly not in the best condition…” Yunho observes. They look through the costumes, but most of them seem torn, moulding or both. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Unfortunately, no one has been taking care of these clothes properly for decades now. They’re almost completely useless…” Seonghwa sighs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, it looks like we’ll have to draft some costumes from scratch, then!” The professor claps her hands together. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi speaks up, “Um, if I may…” they all turn to look at him, “I have someone in mind who can make the best costumes for us! He’s a third year fashion student and his works are unique and very creative. And he works very hard. He’s so passionate. So, uh…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She gives him a warm smile, “You can bring him to our next meeting so we can get to know him, Mingi! Good for you for taking the initiative!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh god, what did I do…” he wonders out loud as he and Yunho walk to the cafeteria for dinner. “He just finished his schoolwork and he’s exhausted all the time, and now I’m just going to pile even more work on him —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His friend’s hand engulfs his own and Mingi stops abruptly. Yunho thumbs over his fingers tenderly, and a butterfly flutters her wings inside Mingi’s stomach, “Hongjoong will be so happy.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“To be creating our costumes?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think he’ll be happier when he finds out what you think of his work, and that you recommended him.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sure enough, Mingi finds himself in the vestry with Hongjoong a few days later. They’re going through some costumes that the third year deems ‘salvageable’ enough to simply repair or revamp, or those that are torn but have interesting fabrics to cut up and use in new designs. The smell is permeating the air and it’s making both of them feel a bit dizzy, but they keep on searching the hangers for hours. In the end, Hongjoong has amassed a good few costumes whose fabrics he’s going to be using in his new designs. As far as what is ‘salvageable’, they’re mostly accessories and props that Hongjoong is also going to change up into something that suits his ‘vision’ a bit more. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m so annoyed at Seonghwa! Look at all of these unused materials I can cut up for <em>free</em> instead of spending my money on expensive fabrics!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I really doubt he would just let you in and allow you to just rip up decades’ old costumes without anyone finding out…” Mingi murmurs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, jokes on him, because I’m doing that exact thing right now!” Hongjoong exclaims in triumph. They’re sitting on the concrete floor underneath the lamp, folding skirts and suits and wrapping them in plastic before shoving them in big bags for Hongjoong to take home. “It’s all because of you, you know.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Pause. “What do you mean?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You, trusting me. Trusting my work enough to recommend me to your professor. I appreciate that so much, Mingi-yah.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong’s hand comes up to fluff his hair again — he really needs to cut it at some point, it’s getting out of hand — but then his fingers travel down, cup his cheek and stroke it. Mingi’s breathless but leans into the touch because even though Hongjoong always gives him touches like these, he always craves more. He’s so starved, he aches for this, follows the movement of his palm like he’s mesmerized. Hongjoong’s finger travels to the bridge of his nose, touching the bone, reaching the edge, he’s finally at his cupid’s bow, the downward curve of his top lip, the plump flesh — his hand comes full circle and cups his cheek again, a finger running up and down his jawline. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You inspire me…” Hongjoong murmurs, and his hand is gone, his face turns away to look at the costumes again with a nervous shake. Mingi’s forgotten how to breathe. “My little Hamlet… what should we put you in?” his fingers trace the threaded details of a dark navy coat. It has a military aesthetic to it, with a high neck that buttons into place with ornate, gold details. “Stand up for me, Mingi?” It's more of a prompt than a request. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi is up on his feet in seconds, standing straight with his arms close to his sides. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now, the look of this coat is nothing like what I imagine, but the fit and the cut suits you perfectly…” he places the garment on Mingi’s chest, fitting the fabric across his shoulders, “Definitely padded shoulders for you… Hm, maybe a belt or a corset to fit the waist,” his arms wrap around Mingi’s middle and Hongjoong inevitably steps closer, his chin touching Mingi’s chest. He could bury his nose in his dark blond hair if he wanted to, he could wrap his hands around his neck, tug on the long strands of hair that curl around his neck, “Long coats suit you with how tall you are, Mingi-yah…” Hongjoong’s hand trails towards his hips and a full body shudder travels from Mingi’s neck to his toes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hongjoong…” Mingi’s eyes follow the sparkle of Hongjoong’s eyeshadow — he always wears such pretty eyeshadow, lines the corners of his eyes with dark brown and a touch of gold in the center, and when he drops his gaze his eyes look like they’re swimming in starlight. He can feel his lips going numb from the <em>need. </em></span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi…” he can tell that Hongjoong gets on his tiptoes, reaching out to him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A single, loud thud freezes Mingi’s blood. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did you do that? Mingi? Was that you?” Hongjoong is still clinging to him but for an entirely different reason. The navy coat that stands between them suddenly feels peculiarly cold and uncomfortable. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh. No.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Thud.</em> Silence. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the fuck is that?” Hongjoong’s voice is merely a whisper. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Thud. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then, a voice sings. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They clutch onto each other. The vestry had been completely silent save for their conversing voices, and phone signal was almost nonexistent. The voice sounds like it’s echoing, coming from another room. It sings in a rhythm that sounds hollow, repeatedly, circling the notes like a machine. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong lets go of him and reaches out to slap the concrete walls, “This room is soundproof inside out, where is this coming from?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, don’t —“ Mingi reaches out to grab his hand, “Um, maybe someone is practicing in the classroom?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They open the door but are only met with an empty room, lights switched off. The singing doesn’t stop, it only intensifies. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m really creeped out,” Mingi whines. He hates scary things and he wishes he wasn’t this skittish but the smell in the air is really starting to get to him and this voice, although beautiful, sounds positively haunting in a place like this and he just really needs to get out or he’s going to start panicking. “Let’s leave, can we leave?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck it, let’s get out of here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They hurriedly gather their stuff and costumes and clumsily lock the vestry before rushing out of the classroom and down the hallway. No one’s having lessons right now and the doors are locked, the fluorescent lights switching on automatically as they walk down the stairs. The building feels empty but full at the same time, devoid of anything living and filled with something that doesn’t feel human. Their footsteps echo way too loudly for Mingi’s liking — every sound is just too much right now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the fuck was that? Creepy as fuck…” Hongjoong mutters, “You okay? Mingi? Mingi?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The second year doesn’t realize he’s leaning on his knees until Hongjoong pulls him up, “Mingi, you want to breathe for me?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um…” he breathes in and out a few times, “I feel like I’m gonna puke.” The night is freezing cold and he’s holding his jacket along with the rest of the costumes but he can’t move his arms, his knees are still trembling and his teeth have started chattering. He keeps looking down at his shoes, afraid that if he looks up something will come out and spook him. “‘M so cold…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, listen to me Mingi. Let’s go up to your room, okay? You want me to call Yunho? Do you know if Yunho’s in his room?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, p-please…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, I will call Yunho, I want you to hold these for me close to your chest, alright?” He’s trying to distract him from his inner turmoil, that at least Mingi can tell. He holds the bags close to his chest as they walk towards the dorms. Hongjoong makes a call to Yunho and soon enough, the two of them are walking up the stairs and knocking on Yunho’s door. “He said he’s just finished studying so we can hang out with him, is that okay? Or we can go to your room —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yunho-Yunho is fine.” Mingi’s lip trembles. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The second year’s room smells amazing — the aroma is subtle and slightly sweet; lavender. His ceiling light is switched off and his fairy lights give off a subtle yellow glow. The radiator is on and there’s steam coming out of the bathroom. Yunho’s hair is slightly wet from his shower and he’s wearing a loose cotton long-sleeve and matching pajamas. “What happened?” he asks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong gives a detailed explanation as he gets comfortable onto Yunho’s bed with Mingi. Their bags lay messily near the door but Mingi has completely forgotten about them now, choosing to focus on the way Hongjoong’s arm wraps around his shoulders. Their friend brings some water to a boil with his kettle and makes him a big cup of warm tea, “That sounds creepy,” he agrees, passing the cup to Mingi. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The taste of herbal tea touches his tongue the moment Yunho’s hand joins Hongjoong’s around his shoulders so that he’s in the middle, curled into an embrace that smells of boyish scents and feels like a pool of warm milk he wouldn't mind drowning in. The bed is way too small for the three of them and their legs are hanging off the edge, but none of that matters when Hongjoong and Yunho’s hands intertwine on top of his stomach, “Are you coming back to us?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He comes back to Hongjoong’s hands around his waist, the closeness of his body against his, a smelly, navy coat the only thing separating him from dipping his toes into a pool of dreams and slanted eyes and pointy teeth and puppy dog eyes and fluffy brown hair and tall and short and Yunho and Hongjoong — </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Both of them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Are you coming back to us? </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think he’s getting a bit sleepy. You’re a bit calmer, right?” Hongjoong mutters, and his palm cups his cheek again. He barely registers that he’s muttering affirmatively. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We should get into bed,” Yunho says. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“All three of us?” asks Hongjoong. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s a tight fit, but it works. I think it’s for the best if we stay with him.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi keeps his eyes closed as his two friends shuffle him around and take his shoes and hoodie off. He hears them bicker a bit before Hongjoong gets into bed first and tucks himself against the wall, tugging at Mingi’s arms — and Mingi can’t look, he refuses to look as the third year buries himself in Mingi’s chest, curls his legs around his and wraps his arm around his waist, breath hot near his neck. Soon enough, Yunho lays a few more blankets over them before getting into bed himself. He moves Mingi’s head so that it rests on his chest and curls into the other two boys, completing their nest. Mingi is face to face with his sternum and feels the exact moment that Yunho presses a kiss on the crown of his head. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He dozes off like this for a couple of hours, his body too squished in to be able to do anything else other that sleep. As the three of them shift around, Hongjoong turns to face the wall and whines in his sleep, searching for Mingi’s arm to spoon him. Once Mingi turns, Yunho follows suit, curling his palms around Mingi’s soft stomach underneath his shirt. Soon enough, the two of them are softly snoring and Mingi is wide awake. The clock on the wall says 1:57am. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Both. It has to be both, and that <em>kills</em> him because both is never an option; no novel he’s ever read mentions a character choosing both without one of them getting hurt. Three’s a crowd, that’s what everyone says. And Mingi bites his lip, his panic attack long forgotten as a new coiling feeling in his stomach takes over. He curses his own selfishness and his indecisiveness and thinks about how none of this would be happening if he wasn’t so terribly lonely. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He promises himself to not ever bring the three of them in an awkward situation because of his own stupidity. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[mingki]:</b> @hwa what do you know about the ghost in the vestry? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> the phantom of the opera? one of my favorite musicals indeed! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]:</b> no we’re talking about an actual ghost!!!! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> what is this </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> CREEPY SHIT CREEPY SHIT </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[joongie~]:</b> seonghwa it’s true! a few days ago me and mingi were at the vestry to pick out some costumes and we heard someone singing! out of fucking nowhere </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[mingki]:</b> the classroom was empty like… not a soul in sight and it was so terrifying bc you could hear thumps again and again</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[sannie]:</b> eww ew ew e w e w ww </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> ok i’ve never heard of that before… </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> the vestry is indeed creepy </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> i only know that stupid story about the ghost in our theatre </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[sannie]: </b>the what???</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[mingki]:</b> fuck me </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]: </b>…</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[mingki]:</b> there’s a ghost in the theatre we’re practicing in?? like the one we will be performing in?? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> it’s like this legend that dates back in the 60s about a theatre student who wanted to perform the lead role at this play and for some reason or another they wouldn’t let him and it was his dream role so at the premiere he showed up with a knife and jumped on stage, killing the protagonist and then performing so intensely before passing away on stage </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]: </b>just like that?? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> they say his spirit still haunts the theatre to this day </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> you’ll hear the last steps he made on stage before collapsing echoing through the walls </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> and it’s said that if a great injustice is committed at that same stage his spirit will possess you and drive you mad </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[joongie~]:</b> oh there’s lore </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> or so that’s what my stupid classmates talk about instead of learning their lines </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> @mingki @yunhohoe have you learned your lines yet </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> why aren’t you responding????? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“The ghost is definitely something to worry about,”</em>Yunho reads his lines out loud from the script as he paces around the stage. Bright lights cast harsh shadows against his frame, creating the dark and heavy atmosphere the scene requires: Horatio has just caught sight of the Ghost of the King of Denmark with the two guards right outside of the palace. No one has learned their lines by heart yet, but Seonghwa insists that acting out the scenes while reading the script will help their memory by associating words with actions. He sits at the front row, knees curled to his chest, eyeing the performers like a hawk, zeroing in on the details. Mingi knows his friend is made for this. Him? Not so much. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“…And we’ve had similar omens of terrible things to come, as if heaven and earth have joined together to warn us what’s going to happen…”</em>Yunho continues. On queue, the spotlight shifts from the three students to a static position at the far right corner of the stage. For a few moments, there’s complete silence. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then, Seonghwa explodes, “Where’s the ghost?!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hushed murmurs and footfalls echo from backstage as students hurry to find their positions. Soon enough, a white sheet that’s held by a single wooden rod peaks out from the curtain. There are two holes cut in the fabric to mimic eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Wait, look! It has come again. I’ll — </em>fuck me, I can’t do this —“ Yunho cries out before collapsing on the floor, laughing hysterically. Soon enough, the entire cast is in shambles, their laughter echoing in the theatre’s walls as the rod moves about, shaking the white sheet that is the Ghost King of Denmark. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just because your classmate is absent doesn’t mean we can’t continue our rehearsal,” Seonghwa yells at them, “Ms. Kim, I will need to instill into all of the students how important their attendance is for these rehearsals. Even though,” he checks his notebook, “Dongwu had to leave early today, that doesn’t mean we can joke around!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re all fucked,” Hongjoong laughs as he settles into the seat next to Mingi. He’s just arrived, cheeks and nose all red from the cold wind that howls outside in the freezing night. He’s wearing a knitted headband around his forehead to cover his ears and his hair peaks out like bean sprouts. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did you curl your hair?” Yunho giggles, reaching out to touch a frizzy tuft of hair. Mingi watches as the two bicker and tease each other while he’s stuck in the middle with both of them leaning onto him and suddenly wants to sink into the red velvet of the chair as his friends crush him — </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hongjoong!” his professor says in glee. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, yes, hello!” the two boys break it up, much to Mingi’s dismay. He gets a big, hard back sketchbook from his studded cross-body bag, “So, I made sketches of all the character outfits and my inspirations for the overall theme…” all of the students gather around him. His sketchbook is filled with various designs of outfits for his essays but also his personal work, the pages brimming with notes and scribbles, clippings of printed pictures and cut out pieces of fabric. He talks a lot with his hands — his nails are burgundy now — and all of them stare at him with awe. “So, my vision is: historically accurate, but make it edgy.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay…” Mrs. Kim agrees. As Mingi’s said before, she’s a sweetheart, and even though she’s much older in age than the rest of his professors, she’s always patient with her students — even when they’re being assholes — and trusts Seonghwa and believes in his artistic liberties. He’s pretty sure Hongjoong’s going to get away with anything he proposes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The fashion student turns to a page that includes detailed sketches of renaissance-era outfits and photocopies of his textbook. The patterns are colorful and regal with flowery patterns, “Generally speaking, the shapes of the costumes are the most important parts: the corseted waists, the high necks, the exaggerated collars and the puffy skirts. I think, we can keep those and then experiment with the textures and the fabrics.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turns the page to a set of outfit designs that have an entirely different aesthetic, even though they’re patterned after the previous sketches. Robes and suits in dark brown, burgundy and black fabrics, tight waists corseted with leather belts and chains hanging to the bottom of the skirts. The collars end in pointed tips, resembling the mouth of a monster, as if they’re swallowing the person who’s wearing them. There are many details that are see-through or lace (as Hongjoong’s notes indicate) like the puffy sleeves, some of the chest pieces and the gloves. He has also illustrated some masks and crowns, inspired by each character’s personality and story arc. His illustrations look like they’ve just jumped out of of a high fantasy gothic novel, however they also include modern pieces like harnesses and high-heeled boots. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“These are beautiful…” Mrs. Kim says breathlessly, and her students hum in agreement, “But not very historically accurate.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I guess… I tried to stick to the guidelines of the setting but once reading the play I became very invested in the characters — the designs are a bit more reflective of their personalities and feelings, as you’ll see.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“These aren’t the costumes?!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh no, these are just some practice sketches!” Hongjoong says as he turns the page, and — oh. “We’ll start with our Hamlet. Can you get up for me, Mingi?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi is going to actually <em>collapse</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he braves and stands up in front of everyone, glancing at Hongjoong’s notes. “Unlike everyone else in the play,” the third year begins explaining, “Hamlet is the only character who’s mourning the loss of his father. He’s the only one who isn’t ready to move on with his life and clings onto this death, which is what will bring his demise in the end. I’m thinking of Mingi wearing his long, black cape with a velvety black fabric,” his arms reach over to Mingi, hands circling his waist. He hopes he can’t feel him shaking, “cinched at the waist with a leather harness. The straps cross over each other at his back,” he manhandles him to turn around, fingers stroking over the lines the straps will cover over his back, “similar to a straight-jacket. Hamlet is always jumping back and forth between his calculated, rational planning and the bursting feelings of grief and injustice towards his family that lead him to insanity.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s amazing!” someone comments. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you,” Hongjoong giggles, ears getting red, “I also imagine Hamlet wearing various silver accessories like chain-mail belts and jewerly. Then, the shoulders will definitely be padded and squared,” his hands leave Mingi’s body as he turns the page — to some sketches of Mingi’s face. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong is a very talented artist, but his art style beautifies Mingi’s features exceptionally: harsh lines to accentuate his cheekbones and jaw, furrowed brows that create a solemn and silently angry look in his eyes with pierced, puckered lips. There’s dark ink lining his eyes and mouth, with notes explaining how eyeshadow and lipstick should be placed. His hair is styled in a quaff, the sides inked in to resemble an undercut. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is that Mingi?!” a student laughs, “He looks nothing like him!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure he does!” Hongjoong protests, “I looked at his Instagram for hours to be able to sketch him!” <em>Oh God.</em> “Mrs. Kim, I know I was only supposed to think of the outfits, and these are just rough sketches and will probably look nothing like the finished product, but I couldn’t help but visualize what your students will look like in character. So I added some pointers in case we do use makeup.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Their professor’s hand strokes over the lines and marks on Hongjoong’s sketches, mouth gaping in awe, “Hongjoong…” she begins. She turns to look at him, smiling, “You are such a talented young man — I love the way you think. You know, in my day, people who performed Shakespeare tried to stick as close to his original work and pointers as possible. We would recreate his vision and keep the tradition alive. But you, Hongjoong, you present Shakespeare’s work through your own creative liberties. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t stick to the script because the themes of the play are immortallized and relevant no matter the time period.” Her hands reach out to hold Hongjoong’s in her palms. “I’m so very glad you’ll be working with us.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi feels his throat close up as Hongjoong’s eyes water and his lips tremble when he thanks her. He doesn’t question him about it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A few days before their winter break officially begins, Yunho proposes something. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have an idea!” he exclaims. They’re in San and Wooyoung’s apartment; they’re essentially forcing the couple to take a break from their assignments and studying to relax and have some proper food. Mingi is the one in charge of cooking this time (there’s a no takeout rule in place because everyone’s saving up money for Christmas presents), so there’s some chicken soup simmering in a pot and a healthy amount of garlic bread roasting in the over. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That smells heavenly…” Yeosang compliments him, staring at the bread through the orange glow emitting from the oven. “Can’t wait to test it!” The two of them hadn’t interacted much because, in all honesty, Yeosang has a very intimidating aura and a resting bitch face, but the two had begun talking a lot more. And with how polite and diligent the theatre student was, it was impossible to dislike him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s your idea?” Hongjoong asks, refusing to look up from his sketchbook. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s try and contact the ghost in the vestry!” there’s glee in Yunho’s eyes that make him look just a little wild.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh! Oh! Are we going to use an ouija board?” San asks with enthusiasm. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We could! I also have my tarot cards, we could ask questions that they could answer through the cards!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What if we anger it and then it haunts us?” Wooyoung says worriedly, clutching at San’s arms that wrap around him in a hug. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re not angering anything because the ghost doesn’t exist.” Seonghwa interrupts their planning, “It’s just a stupid story theatre students made up to be the center of attention, once again!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, so, if it doesn’t exist, where’s the harm in having a little fun?” Hongjoong says, eyebrows raised in mischief. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Apart from breaking and entering in foreign property and doing creepy shit?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No one’s breaking in if we’re using a key…” Yunho says, looking directly at Seonghwa. “You’re the one Mrs. Kim trusts the most. As her beloved director, you should definitely have keys to the theatre and the vestry.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So what if I do?” Seonghwa defends himself, “I’m not going to give them to you just so you can light up some candles and talk to spirits!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well… we don’t know if there’s a ghost. But, considering how we’re all very interested to see if the legend is true or not — “ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“ — I think there’s no harm in finding out for ourselves. Plus,” Yunho slides over to where Mingi’s stirring the soup. He wraps his arm around Mingi’s waist, bringing him close against his body. His taller stature towers over Mingi, his heartbeat picking up as Yunho’s fingers clutch his waist and jostle him around. “Our dear Mingi over here had a very traumatic experience with said ghost. I think it’ll be a healing process for him to get to overcome his fear of the unknown.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yunho…” Hongjoong sets his sketchbook to the side, and there’s a warning look in his stare, “Mingi had a panic attack because of how scared he was. Do you really think it’s smart to bring him into this and scare him even more?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not that serious,” Yunho smiles at him, but there’s bite into it, “Mingi is strong enough to decide for himself if he wants to come along, Hongjoong.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then don’t use him as your scapegoat to convince us to go along with your plan!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought you were all for participating in it just a few seconds ago…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not when you make Mingi the center of your little stunts!” the third year is up from the bed now, has walked to the kitchen area and is standing in front of the two. Mingi’s still in Yunho’s embrace, the only barrier separating them as he stands in between. Hongjoong’s short stature doesn’t match his fiery stare. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi doesn’t have to look at Yunho to hear the Cheshire cat-like smile in his words, “You’re very protective of Mingi, Hongjoong-yah.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You little brat —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“H-hey, hey,” Mingi chuckles awkwardly, squished between the two of them. There’s the rational part of his brain that’s screaming at him to resolve the tension between his two friends, and there’s the monkey part of his brain that’s edging him to let them bicker a little more while he’s stood in between. “It-it’s no problem, Hongjoong. I don’t mind! If,” he pauses, reaching down to grab Yunho and Hongjoong’s palms with each of his hands, “If you two are there with me, then there’s nothing to worry about!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His mind flashes back to the two of them cuddling him to sleep after his panic attack, to the promise he made to himself to never bring the three of them in such an uncomfortable situation because of his own feelings. But standing in between them, so close that he can feel their breaths on his neck, the air buzzing with tension — it’s enough to make him break that promise. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong visibly settles but doesn’t step back. He crowds the two of them, as if he’s claiming his territory. Mingi feels Yunho’s hand tighten around his waist. He shivers, “If Mingi’s fine with it, I guess I have no qualms.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Great!” San claps his hands, “Can we do it during the weekend? I have work all day up until Friday.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And I need to finish my presentation on textiles before Thursday!” adds Wooyoung. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is no one going to ask me if I’m okay with this?” Seonghwa screeches, “Or are you going to hold me down and take the keys by force?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I bet you’d like that.” Yunho giggles in Mingi’s ear. The second year shivers again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before Seonghwa lunges at him, Yeosang speaks up, “It sounds like fun! Let’s do it!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They arrange their creepy endeavors to fall on a Saturday evening, so that everyone’s free from their school responsibilities and they can have access to the vestry after their rehearsal. They promise their teacher and the rest of the cast to clean up after them — Mingi hates knowing that they’re lying to her, she’s so pure and wholesome as she ruffles their hair and thanks them for their hard work — and they meet San and Wooyoung in front of the specific classroom the vestry hides in. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is so creepy…” San murmurs as Seonghwa unlocks the door, “You’d never know this was hiding here if you were just having a lesson in this room. It’s like it’s hidden inside the walls!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The smell is unpleasant…” Yeosang says. Yunho ignores them as he sets his bag on the floor and begins setting candles in a circle formation, lighting them with his lighter. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s a tight space so we’ll have to squeeze into a circle.” he explains. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is a fire hazard…” Seonghwa says worriedly, stepping around the small candles to sit down cross-legged next to Yeosang. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After everyone’s sat down — Mingi squished between Yunho and Hongjoong — the former asks them to switch off the one and only lamp that illuminates the room. The small candles do little to shine light on their faces, but the tarot deck Yunho has placed in the middle is visible enough. “Okay, so. We’re going to hold hands and introduce ourselves to the spirit — “ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So that they know exactly who we are to curse us,” Seonghwa interrupts, voice shaking. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re the one who didn’t believe in that stuff,” Wooyoung teases him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yeosang takes Seonghwa’s hand into his own, interlacing their fingers in silence. He motions for Yunho to keep talking. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right. So, let’s hold hands,” they oblige, “I will start, and then please say your name out loud.” He clears his throat, “To any spirits who may be lurking in this room, we are not here to disturb you. We mean no harm. We are simply here to contact you, not to drive you out of your place of rest. I am Jeong Yunho.” He turns to look at Mingi. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hi! I am Song Mingi…” Mingi greets the void. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m Kim Hongjoong.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Kang Yeosang.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“P-park Seonghwa.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My name is Choi San.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jung Wooyoung!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now,” Yunho continues, “If there are any spirits here with us, please give us a sign.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The lightbulb on top of them flickers. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my God.” San whispers, squeezing Wooyoung’s hand. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This building is very old and admittedly there must be some problems with maintenance — “ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you for showing yourself to us, spirits.” Yunho interrupts Seonghwa’s rambling. Mingi’s throat remains dry no matter how much spit he swallows. He squeezes Yunho’s and Hongjoong’s hands respectively. He feels them squeeze in return. He doesn’t know if the flickering is a sign from a world beyond them or simply a maintenance issue but he chooses to remain silent for the time being. “How many of you are there? Please indicate your number accordingly.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The light flickers again once. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hello there, spirit —“ Yunho begins. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Thud. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my <em>God</em>,” San’s voice trembles, “What the fuck was that?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Thud.</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We-we heard it the last time we were here…” Mingi’s voice is a barely-there whisper, “There’s this sound…a-as if someone’s walking around… and then —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Thud. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“—Then, a voice, like so-someone’s singing…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A voice begins to sing. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s him!” Seonghwa cries out, “The theatre ghost, it’s him, it’s fucking <em>him</em>!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Calm down—“ Yeosang stands up with him, trying to keep him from thrashing around. The voice doesn’t stop its singing. It sounds as if it’s coming from afar, words that melt together and become incoherent, lest for the hauntingly beautiful melody. But Seonghwa is pushing Yeosang away from him, visibly trembling, his eyes watering. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is really creeping me out…” Wooyoung whines, clutching San in his arms who remains silent. Yunho looks around the room, completely speechless and at a loss for words. Mingi realizes that this was definitely not how he thought this would turn out. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Guys, let’s calm down…” Hongjoong tries, but he sounds scared as well. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It won’t stop!” Seonghwa is out-right panicking, tears brimming his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi feels like everything is moving in slow-motion: the singing voice that sounds as if he’s underwater, Seonghwa thrashing against Yeosang, San and Wooyoung hugging each other, Yunho digging his nails into his arm with a distant look in his eyes and Hongjoong shouting at Yeosang to stop pulling at Seonghwa’s shirt because it won’t help. Mingi is petrified, but he looks at his older friend, his Seonghwa, someone who always exudes confidence and is cynical and towers over everyone and they all trust him. But, he looks so small and scared and vulnerable — </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi stands up and grabs Seonghwa’s face in his palms, “Seonghwa, look at me.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His friend looks up; his big eyes are red, brimming with tears. He’s visibly sweating and panting. Mingi can’t help but wonder if this is what he looked like when Hongjoong saw him back then. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re having a panic attack, b-but you’ll be okay. I’m here, okay?” he doesn’t know what to say, what to do when a single tear escapes Seonghwa’s eye and rolls down his cheek, his chest heaving up and down, “Take deep breaths, can-can you count with me? One…” he zones out everyone else, guiding Seonghwa as they breathe together. The third year’s breath hitches as the singing continues, but he tries his hardest to follow Mingi along, and Mingi makes sure to tell him he’s doing a good job. He feels a tear roll down his own cheek and makes sure to wipe it off before Seonghwa sees him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We need to get out of here,” Hongjoong says</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As he stands up, he knocks over one of the boxes that are used to store shoes. He exclaims loudly when light begins to shine from a hole in the ground. The voice gets louder. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my God! What the fuck, guys, guys! Calm down!” the commotion behind him stills, “Come take a look…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What they find is a hole on the ground that gives them a look inside the backstage of the theatre hall. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the fuck!” Wooyoung cries out in a whisper. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s also a ladder…” Yunho notices. He leans into the hole and grabs the thick curtain, only to reveal the theatre stage and the audience seats beyond it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A boy stands in the center and he sings. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is-is that the ghost?” San questions. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He looks very real to me…” Yeosang reasons. The boy continues to sing, his melodic voice filling up the theatre. He admittedly has a lovely voice, high and booming, as if it’s coming out of his chest. He sings with feeling, with longing — Mingi forgets all about his fear. He feels moved, emotional even. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m getting down there,” Hongjoong says determined before pushing everyone and beginning to climb down the leader that brings him backstage. They all follow suit quietly before Hongjoong pulls the curtain behind and steps right on stage. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Aahh!” </em>the boy screams in fear, almost falling down from the shock, “What the fuck?! Who are you guys?! When did you get here?! I thought this theatre was empty at this hour!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are you here?” Hongjoong demands, “The theatre <em>is</em> supposed to be empty at this hour, indeed. Why are you here then, who gave you the keys? Who are you?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Choi Jongho…” Seonghwa answers Hongjoong, walking towards the boy. His cheeks are flushed but he’s stopped crying, to Mingi’s relief, “I know you. You’re a first year music student. They call you a <em>prodigy.</em>” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, what about it?” the boy says defensively, “Who even are you guys? What are you even doing here?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you come here often?” Mingi asks him, “To sing?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My professor has given me spare keys to come here and rehearse whenever I feel like it. My grandparents live with us and I can’t sing out loud because they sleep all the time,” Jongho explains. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re the voice we keep hearing sing!” Hongjoong says, “We are working on a play — did you know there’s a hole in the room just above us that connects it directly to backstage? Anyway, apparently you’ve been scaring us shitless because we had no idea that hole was even there.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We thought you were a ghost!” Yunho explains. “You’re not a ghost, right?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Last time I checked no, I wasn’t.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, thank fuck.” San says. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re sorry we scared you, Jongho,” Wooyoung says, a cheeky smile on his face, “You know what, now that I’m not peeing my pants from the terror, this was actually a very fun experience!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the fuck,” Seonghwa whispers. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What play are you guys performing?” Jongho asks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh!” Yunho smiles, “Well…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>woowoo has added kang yeosang to the groupchat </b>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>woowoo has added choi jongho to the groupchat </b>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>woowoo has changed kang yeosang ’s nickname to yeosangie. </b>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>woowoo has changed choi jongho ’s nickname to jonghoho. </b>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[jonghoho]:</b> Hello, everyone. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yeosangie]:</b> ew wtf don’t type like that </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>find me on twitter @milkytae12 ♡♡♡</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you all for your kind comments! i always enjoy reading your thoughts, so don't be shy :3♡♡<br/>things are taking a turn with this one! huehuehue :))))</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> Attachment </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> sannie fell asleep the moment we took off and i’m BORED </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s an issue for someone else,” Hongjoong chuckles before shutting off his phone. The constant thrumming of the train tracks has turned into pleasant background noises now that they’re one hour into their journey. He has a novel open on the table in front of him that’s thickened with pencil marks and highlighted sentences. The sun is setting as they travel across the countryside, which means he’ll soon have to switch on his personal light if he wants to keep on reading. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Opposite of him, Mingi and Yunho practice their lines together. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“It happens sometimes,”</em> Mingi speaks, glancing here and there on the booklet he’s holding in his hand because he’s still very unsure about his ability to memorize, <em>“that one little defect in these people, as wonderful and talented —“</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re going too fast, Mingi,” Yunho interjects, “Remember what Seonghwa says: take a small breath in between your words, feel their weight. Don’t speak your words as if you’re telling them by heart. Speak them as if they are you own thoughts. Let it out naturally.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y-yeah…” he agrees, his cheeks heating up. Yunho gives him a nod without meeting his eyes, too engrossed in the script. He clears his throat and continues, ready to impress, <em>“as wonderful,”</em> breath, <em>“and talented,”</em> breath, <em>“as they may be,”</em> he looks up from his script. Yunho is looking at him. Hongjoong is, too. He can tell, and both pairs of eyes make him tremble so, as he speaks words that do not come from his brain but he’ll make sure they sound like they come from his heart, <em>“they will make them look completely bad to other people.”</em> Pause. <em>“A tiny spot of evil casts doubt on their good qualities and ruins their reputations.”</em>A tiny bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. He’s really bad at this. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good job, Mingi-yah,” Hongjoong smiles in satisfaction, taking a sip from his boba tea. “You made me put down my book!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re really good, Mingi…” Yunho compliments him, “You don’t have to rush, just take it slow. And you know the words, you should try it once without holding the script.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah…” he sighs, “The play is so long…” he crosses his arms on the table and rests his head on them, “I’m gonna forget everything when I get on stage!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong’s hand reaches to ruffle his hair, but it stays there in a comforting touch, “Silly Mingi-yah. By the time summer rolls around you will have rehearsed your lines so many times it’ll be second nature to you! Even I’m starting to memorize them!” he clears his throat. Mingi looks up, <em>“Neither my black clothes, my dear mother,”</em> he begins reciting Mingi’s lines, but it’s evident he’s imitating Seonghwa, even raises his brows and deepens his voice a comical amount. Yunho starts heaving his chest with laughter, <em>“nor my heavy sighs, nor my weeping, nor my downcast eyes, nor any other display of grief can show what I really feel!”</em> He exclaims, raising his hand as if he’s holding a gauntlet. People are starting to stare at them from the nearby seats. He moans in anguish, <em>“It’s true that all these things “seem” like grief, since a person could use them to fake grief if he wanted to. But I’ve got more real grief inside me that you could ever see on the surface! These clothes are just a hint of it!</em> Mom! It’s not a phase, mom!” he finishes his speech with his own personal addition and the three of them crumble in hysteric laughter. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yunho stands up, continuing the theatrics. He’s swayed by the moving train, however, and ends up at the seat next to Hongjoong, “Ah, if only Shakespeare’s Hamlet had the privilege of wearing our dear Hongjoong’s clothes!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not all people are this lucky, Yunho-yah!” Hongjoong teases. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When you finally make it big I’ll talk about us being friends,” Yunho promises, fake-crying, “Vogue will interview me when they finally publish your cover issue and I’ll tell them, <em>‘Hongjoong is such a professional, did you know he stands on stools to reach and measure the models?’</em>” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi’s guffawing laughter earns them multiple scoldings from nearby passengers to keep it down. Yunho and Hongjoong fail to manage their giggles, and opt to hide in each others’ shoulders to muffle them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You two look good together…” Mingi says without thinking. He gulps. The sun has set now, casting shadows against their faces. Their eyes glimmer. Mingi’s not sure, but they look like they want to devour him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi-yah,” Hongjoong breaks away first, reaching over to take Mingi’s hand into his, threading their fingers together. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi.” Yunho follows, reaching for the same hand and holding his wrist tenderly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi gulps before offering his other hand to Yunho, first caressing his thumb and then interlacing them. He’s left with both boys holding his hands: they stroke them, Hongjoong tucks their hold underneath his chin and Yunho digs his nails into his skin, not too much but just enough. As if they’re competing for his attention. The train is eerily quiet, and Mingi’s so scared he’s going to wake everyone up with how erratically his heart is beating. He can tell he’s trembling, his bottom lip bumping against his top one, but he can’t help but lean into their touch, his spine arching like a lazy cat, pushing his body against the table that stands in between him and his objects of desire. Coincidentally, the train bumps and he’s shoved even further against the table, chin touching the cold surface. He doesn’t dare to look up; his senses are overwhelmed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s a feather-light touch on his head, and he doesn’t know who it’s from but he doesn’t care at this point, “Mingi,” it’s Yunho, “Come here.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks up, “What?” his friend motions for him to come and sit in between them. <em>He’s going to collapse,</em> “I-I, uh, I don’t fit in there…” there’s definitely more implications to that. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong grabs his chin, “Come here,” he beckons, “We won’t reach the Central Station for a good six or seven hours, you know. We should get some sleep.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In what seems like an eternity, Mingi manages to get up from his seat and exchange seats with Yunho opposite of him. Once he’s settled, Hongjoong wraps an arm across his waist and tugs him closer, so that Yunho can fit in on Mingi’s right side. His friend’s long limb comes around his shoulders, and soon Mingi is squished — once again — into a warm and comfy sandwich in what seems like a perfect dream scenario. Their arms cross over his tummy once again, tying him down to the chair. “Perfect pillow,” Hongjoong says as he settles against his peck. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Perfect…” Yunho agrees, nosing Mingi’s cheek. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep this time — he’s not going to see them for two whole weeks, so he revels in these moments, trying to imprint their breath against his neck into his memory. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They get off at Central Station and part ways. Hongjoong and Yunho are going to catch other trains to reach their homes while Mingi is going to take the bus until his house. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“‘M going to miss you guys…” he whines, still sleepy and starved for touch and attention. It’s way too early in the morning for him to be functioning properly, or to be aware of how he’s acting, but he doesn’t care. Their touch still lingers on his skin, and instead of being satisfied, he craves for more. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong has a double espresso in his hand, but he still takes Mingi into his embrace to say goodbye, “I’ll miss you too, Mingi-yah.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ll see each other in a few weeks, silly!” Yunho giggles, joining the hug, “Plus, we’ll probably end up texting all day and night with the others.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They break apart and start parting ways, still waving at each other as they move towards different directions. Mingi won’t admit this to anyone, but his throat feels clogged and his eyes feel wet — he figures it’s just the cold wind that hits him at the bus stop. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He finally arrives home an hour later and he’s immediately hit with the familiar and oh so lovely smell of fresh pancakes. His heart soars and his hand shakes as he shoves the key in to unlock the door, “Mom!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His mother appears hurriedly from the kitchen, an apron around her waist that’s covered in flour, “Mingi!” she reaches on her tip-toes to cup his cheeks, examining him with adoration, “You haven’t been eating well,” she concludes, “Either that or you’ve grown even taller, my sweet boy.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He proceeds to get coddled and fussed over by the rest of his family that evening, once both of his parents and his older siblings have come back from work and his younger sister has finished her soccer practice. They sit around at the table sharing a roasted dinner of meat and vegetables, conversing about their news and their activities. Of course, soon enough, the conversation shifts towards Mingi and his life at university. He tells them about his lessons, his new friends, how he’s going to be participating in a play as the protagonist! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I hope you’re not slacking off with your studies,” his older brother, Sungho, says, flicking his forehead. He earns a small smack on the hand by their mother. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He has plenty of time to catch up while he’s here,” she defends him, “But this is amazing, Mingi! My son is going to be a star!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“N-no, no, it’s nothing like that —“ Mingi says. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I hope you don’t forget us once you become famous,” Hyerin, his older sister, cries out dramatically. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His little sister, only 8 years old, tugs on his sweater, looking at him with those puppy dog eyes of hers, “Can I tell my friends at choir about your movie? We watched a movie at school a week ago, did you know actors <em>aren’t </em>supposed to talk about the movie until after they’re done filming it?!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He chuckles, ruffling her short hair, “It’s not a movie, Jihae, it’s a theatrical performance. We’re going to be performing it in a theatre like the one you practice choir in.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s the name of the play?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet’! Have you heard of him, little one?” Sungho replies for him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, I think she’s way too young to be reading Shakespeare, guys…” their dad says. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can I come see you, Mingi?” Jihae whines. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks up at his parents, who have equally clueless looks on their faces, “Uh… sure? I, uh, I think it’s more of a story for grown-ups, though.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“…There’s swords?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Swords!”</em> she screams in delight. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Time seems to melt seamlessly while he’s at home, much like the melted chocolate in the brownies he keeps snacking on. They attend Jihae’s choir performance on Christmas Eve and exchange presents at night after they’ve eaten more than enough of their parents’ cooking. It’s the first time Mingi’s not shy to drink in front of his parents — they don’t comment on it — and he goes to bed with a fuzzy brain that’s swimming in rosy, bubbly champagne. Suddenly, his phone buzzes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> merry christmas everyone! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]:</b> merry christmas guys, i hope you’re having fun with your families! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[sannie]:</b> mer,rr chry s t mas </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> sannie is really fucking drunk lol </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[sannie]:</b> i,m nOT </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> baby you’ve been in the bathroom for like half an hour you wanna get out soon? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yeosangie]:</b> there are private messages for this you idiots </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yeosangie]:</b> also merry christmas everyone </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[jonghoho]:</b> Merry Christmas! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]:</b> how are you guys spending your holidays so far?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> my mom took home the class pet because she doesn’t trust any of the kids to take care of it and now i have a lizard in my room </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]:</b> LIZARDS!! i love them i have three here! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> why am i not surprised </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yeosangie]:</b> lizards are pretty cute </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> you know people tell me i look like a lizard </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[mingki]:</b> merry christmas everyone i might have drunk a bit too much and now the room is spinning </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]:</b> awww that’s cute <em>♡♡</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[mingki]: </b>its not i feel like i’m gonna puke </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[jonghoho]:</b> You should eat something and lay on your side. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> okay so san puked all over himself fml</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> i cleaned him up and put him in bed he’s knocked out </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[jonghoho]: </b>Make sure he doesn’t sleep on his back or he’ll puke again! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yeosangie]:</b> how did he drink so much? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> my mom has a bunch of her designer friends over and he managed to get at least a few glasses of every fucking wine bottle they brought as a gift </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]:</b> both of my moms despise wine so i get to drink all of the wine in the world without sharing hehe! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> you have two moms? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]:</b> yes! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> LESBIANS </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> and how many dads? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]:</b> none lmao </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> I TOLD U LESBIANS </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Even through his drunken stupor, Mingi continues readings his friends’ messages. He also notices that Hongjoong keeps reading the conversation, but doesn’t bother to reply. He pouts and switches to his personal messages. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[song mingi]:</b> merry christmas hongjoong ♡</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s going to regret that heart in the morning. Hongjoong seems to type for a few seconds before he replies. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[kim hongjoong]:</b> merry christmas mingi ♡</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His heart feels heavy in his chest. Apparently he's very easy to fluster, not that that’s anything new. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[song mingi]:</b> everything okay? you’re not txtin back at the group chat </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[song mingi]:</b> texting* sorry i’m really dizzy </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[kim hongjoong]:</b> yeah, don't worry about it little one! i’m just really tired </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[song mingi]:</b> had fun with your family?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[kim hongjoong]:</b> you could say that </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[kim hongjoong]:</b> how are you doing? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[song mingi]:</b> pretty good! my sister is in the school choir nd she sang carols n then my dad invited my cousins over n we played games n i had soooo much champagne </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[kim hongjoong]:</b> hehe that sounds nice ♡</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[song mingi]: </b>mm ♡♡♡ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[song mingi]:</b> i miss you </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[song mingi]:</b> i mean i miss you guys i miss everyone </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[kim hongjoong]:</b> i miss you too mingi. i can’t wait to see you in a few weeks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[kim hongjoong]:</b> you should go to sleep it’s really late </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[song mingi]:</b> yeah… probably… goodnight hongjoong </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[kim hongjoong]:</b> goodnight mingi ♡</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[song mingi]:</b> ♡ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi makes sure to not drink that much again during his holidays. Instead, he makes sure to catch up on his studies — with small breaks of his dad bringing him cut up fruit in a bowl — which is dreary and takes him much longer than what he’d like to admit. Other times, he watches movies and plays board games with his cousins and his phone doesn’t get that many notifications from his friends. He reasons that they’re spending time with their family and he should give them space. His fingers do tingle over the buttons though, but he resists the urge to send text after text, especially to Yunho and Hongjoong. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At night, before he falls asleep to the howling wind, his mind drifts to the way they looked at him — the feeling of being wanted was something he didn’t want to admit to himself, but he couldn’t help but recognize that it was there. He is sure of that. He was wanted, and not only as a friend — friends didn’t almost touch lips in attics and friends didn’t cuddle so excessively, didn’t dig their nails into your skin as if claiming their territory and didn’t bark at each other like competing dogs while you stood in the middle, seemingly fine but internally burning with want to be crushed in between their bodies as they took turns in kissing your neck. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To Mingi, it was crystal clear that they were both pursuing him. He wasn’t that naive. But in that notion lay a darker thought, a thought that caused him so much anxiety and anguish that it plagued his every-waking moment no matter how hard he tried to suppress it — the need to make a choice, and his inability to do so. If he entertained the idea of reciprocating only one’s affections, nightmares would haunt his sleep; him losing control, succumbing to his true desires and hurting them both in the process. In his dream, Yunho and Hongjoong hold hands, dark circles around their eyes, looking down at him in contempt. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“You cannot come back to us.”</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the morning of New Year’s Eve, Mingi sulks over his pancakes and makes a promise to himself — if he can’t have both of them, then he’ll have neither. It’s better to stay friends than lose both of them in the process. Maybe the two of them will lose interest in him; maybe they’ll turn to each other for comfort. And he’ll be there for them, even if it hurts like hell, because these few months have turned his whole world upside down and he can’t imagine his life without them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[joongie~]:</b> happy new year’s eve everyone i hope you’re not already drowning in alcohol also @woowoo answer your fucking phone i’ve called you ten times DONT IGNORE ME </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[jonghoho]:</b> They’re spending time together with San, maybe that’s why he’s not responding. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[joongie~]:</b> he promised we would study together :( </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]:</b> that’s so cute~ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[jonghoho]:</b> Only twenty minutes to go until the New Year! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yeosangie]:</b> do you guys have any last wishes?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]:</b> that is mildly threatening </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yeosangie]:</b> perhaps </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> well i wish to accomplish all of my goals in the new year </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[jonghoho]:</b> I wish to expand my horizons and interests and strive to refine my skills! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]:</b> oh okay i thought we were wishing for world peace or something </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yeosangie]:</b> i wish i can pass all my classes so i can sit and do nothing without feeling guilty </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]: </b>i wish i can finally start writing my book! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[joongie~]:</b> i wish i can finally start making my own clothes </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[jonghoho]:</b> Ten </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> oh!!! omg 9 </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]:</b> 8 </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[joongie~]:</b> 8 </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yeosangie]:</b> you idiots </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yeosangie]:</b> 5 </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[jonghoho]:</b> 4 </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> 3 </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[joongie~]:</b> 2 </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]:</b> HAPP </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yunhohoe]: </b>hAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[jonghoho]: </b>Happy New Year everyone! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> happy new year! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yeosangie]:</b> happy near year everyone </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[joongie~]:</b> happy new year you guys!!! </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[mingki]:</b> i love you </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[mingki]:</b> i love you guys* </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[mingki]:</b> happy new year i love you guys and i miss you </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His phone blows up with his friends gushing over how cute and sappy he is in the groupchat, but he also gets two direct messages. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[jeong yunho]:</b> happy new year mingi ♡</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[kim hongjoong]:</b> happy new year ♡</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His mother is yelling at him to put his phone down to take some family pictures with the rest of their guests but his heart is thrumming and he can hear his pulse in his ears. He replies to both of them and adds way too many hearts before Hyerin confiscates his phone for the rest of the night and he gets drunk on champagne, longing for cute hearts, soft hands and two warm bodies next to him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Again,” Seonghwa orders and the vibrato of his voice reaches the seats at the far back of the theatre hall. Instead of observing from the audience, he’s now on stage, the spotlight hitting him in ways that make him look ethereal. Oozing dominance and confidence, Seonghwa’s boots step on the wooden planks with loud footfalls, until it’s distinguishable where the stage begins and where the actor ends. One arm is settled on his waist, while the other aids in expressing his emotions — mostly of desperation. He doesn’t need to hold the script; this monologue is engraved in his heart. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s no trace of the crying, panicked Seonghwa that Mingi had seen in the attic and the one he had comforted. He’s gone for the moment, as if he never existed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi gulps, and his expression must give away his feelings, because for a moment his friend’s features relax. “Mingi, I’m being hard on you. But this is a difficult moment in the play, it’s the most important and iconic monologue in Shakespeare’s legacy. It needs to be <em>perfect.</em> We’re sticking to the original script for this scene per Ms. Kim’s request, so if you want to take it slower and go line by line, we can do that. We should look over your pronunciation.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, I can do that,” he feigns confidence — if he fakes it for a while, it will eventually come true. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good! Line by line, let’s go,” says Seonghwa, <em>“To be,”</em> he pauses for half a second, <em>“Or not to be.” </em></span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“To be,” </em>Mingi mimics him,<em> “Or not to be.” </em></span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“</em>Make it yours, don’t copy me,” his friend instructs, “Use your hands if you want, look around, whatever helps you out. It needs to be natural, desperate, tragic, but not too much. You’re contemplating life and death, you’re so overwhelmed by the turmoil in your life that the only thing you can do is lament over the meaning of your existence.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hm, okay,” says Mingi. He walks around the stage until he stands at the far edge of the stage. The sigh that escapes him comes from the deep void in his lungs, <em>“To be —“</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Suck my fucking dick, asshole!” </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“ — Or not to be.” </em>he whispers, but Seonghwa isn’t listening to him anymore, he’s not even listening to himself, because the scene that’s unraveling in front of him is nothing like he’s ever seen anymore. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At the entrance of the theatre hall, Wooyoung and San are yelling at each other in extremely loud frequencies, faces flushed with anger and spit flying straight into Hongjoong’s face, who stands between them and is doing an extremely poor job at keeping them from tearing each other’s limbs off. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi hasn’t seen any of his friends — apart from Yunho — in about a month. After their holidays, midterms finally began and he was swept up into a routine of almost no sleep, taking tests while pulling all nighters, stuffing his face and then passing out for the afternoon before he would have to revise again. His social interactions were limited to small talk with Yunho on their way to the exam room, who seemed equally stressed and sleep-deprived. They had agreed to not talk about their answers until after exam season was over. Today was the first day classes and theatre practice had resumed and he had been excited to see his friends again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the hell is going on?” Seonghwa asks, running towards them from the stage. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why is he here?” Wooyoung demands, stepping back from the ruckus. He’s pointing at San, who doesn't meet his gaze. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I told him to meet us here,” Hongjoong explains, “He’s going to be the creative director for the play —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the fuck, Hongjoong,” he says. He sounds betrayed, “After everything that happened you really thought this was one of your best ideas?” he turns to San, “I’m not staying here with him around.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We can at least be fucking professional,” San bites back, but he looks exhausted, like he doesn’t have any real anger in him, even though that’s what he wishes to display. “You’re welcome to leave if my presence annoys you so much.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck you,” Wooyoung seethes, “Why should I be the one to leave? I’m Hongjoong’s assistant!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is going on?” Seonghwa shouts again, “Why are you two talking like this to each other?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ask him,” says Wooyoung, “He can tell you all about it!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wooyoung, calm down —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, Hongjoong! I can’t believe you of all people would do this to me, you know I don’t want to see him!” Wooyoung is yelling so loudly that it makes Mingi’s ears hurt. He’s tentatively approaching the fight, hands clutched together. He has no idea what to do. “Please, Choi San,” he turns to his boyfriend, and Hongjoong raises his arm to keep his distance, “You can tell them all about how you broke up with me. And how you have the nerve to tell me to fuck off if I can’t be here with you in the room.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I never said that —“ Mingi notices the way San’s throat closes up, how his eyes fill with tears. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know what, I’m staying here,” Wooyoung decides and grabs his bags that are filled with costumes and fabrics, “And I don’t think us working together is going to be a good time,” he turns his back to them, so that no one can see his face, “Please leave. I’m fine with never seeing you again.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi watches San’s features crumbles, tears clouding his vision before his friend rushes out of the room, door swaying behind him as his footfalls echo in the hallway. He’s rooted to the floor, limbs heavy and stomach coiling — <em>he hates this.</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa growls and grabs him by the collar of his shirt, “What the fuck was that? What happened between you two?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Seonghwa —“ Hongjoong intervenes. There’s sweat collecting at his temples, “Let him go, this has been rough for both of them,” he sighs. “San and Wooyoung broke up. Wooyoung has been living with me since the 3rd of January and he’s helped me with the costumes. Before Christmas break, I had proposed to Ms. Kim that San should be the creative director and she agreed. I thought… You two hadn’t talked in almost three weeks, everything happened so quickly, you two need to figure things out—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s nothing to figure out,” Wooyoung snaps. “What’s done is done. If you’re done with your brief and one-sided explanation of things, can we move on?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wooyoungie, please,” Hongjoong begs. He moves closer to his friend, who flinches and doesn’t let his arms wrap around him in an embrace. Hongjoong, dejected, awkwardly approaches Mingi. Their eyes meet — Mingi hasn’t seen him in so long, he’s missed him so fucking much. He dares to reach and touch his hand, allows himself to be selfish during this mess just to feel Hongjoong’s warmth. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why did you two break up?” asks Seonghwa. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wooyoung raffles through his stuff, taking out clothes in hangers and boxes of shoes, “I guess I have to explain it to you all, <em>as if </em>it was my decision to begin with; San and I had been talking for months about our families meeting during Christmas. He would come to my house, spend all of his vacation with us, and his parents would drive down on Boxing day to exchange gifts and have a nice family dinner.” he pauses, wrapping his arms around himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Did you know his parents had no idea we moved in together? Did you know they’ve been disapproving of our relationship ever since they found out? That the only reason they haven’t enrolled him in some school back home is because of his scholarship?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stands up, grasping at Seonghwa’s white linen shirt, crumpling the fabric, “Because I had <em>no idea</em>,” he seethes, “he<em> never</em> fucking told me. He let me invite his homophobic, scummy parents to make a scene and humiliate him right in front of me. I had to stand there, clueless, as they spewed their shitty mouths, calling him us all sorts of names before turning to my parents, asking them why they had let ‘such a thing’ go on for this long.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What — “ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ve been together for so long and he never said anything once. He’s been keeping his bad relationship with his parents a secret from me, and now I know that every fucking time he’s had fights with them he’s had to deal with it on his own because he refuses to share that part of him with me. Am I not trustworthy?” he cries out, lips trembling, “Why the fuck would he hide something like that from me?! I had no idea, Seonghwa, no fucking clue. And-and when I told him it would be nice for his parents to come over for a holiday dinner since he’d be spending all of the break at my place — I never would have done such a thing if I knew! But he didn’t fucking tell me!” Seonghwa holds him as the tears finally come out like waterfalls. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wooyoungie…” Mingi gets closer, a hand on his friend’s cheek to wipe his tears, “What happened after that dinner?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The second year hiccups, “His parents screamed at him to come back with them in car, b-but my mom told us to go up at my room and that she would handle it. San was… he looked so pale, and-and so emotionless, he couldn’t say a thing. He locked himself in the bathroom before I could do anything, so I just watched our parents scream at each other outside from my window. E-eventually they left and with San… we fought every single day, every time we talked about it. And when we eventually left early on New Year’s day, he fucking <em>broke up with me</em> once we got home.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And then he came at my place and told me everything and he’s been living with me ever since.” Hongjoong fills in. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wooyoung is fully crying right now, loud, ugly sobs, with Hongjoong and Seonghwa holding him and wiping his tears. It feels almost surreal — him and San always felt like one soul split into two bodies, always moving in sync and interacting without needing to talk. Even when they didn’t become the center of attention because of their bratty antics, they remained an inseparable duo in the background of the action. Rarely would you see one without the other when they didn’t have class. That’s how Mingi met them: San and Wooyoung, San <em>with</em> Wooyoung. Even through his own emotional turmoil, they gave him hope that, maybe, someday, he’d have something like they did. Love. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m going to find San,” he announces shyly. Wooyoung doesn’t hear him, but Seonghwa and Hongjoong do. They look at him in disbelief. “Please take care of Wooyoungie. You two are very good at that sort of thing… I’m really not. But San is all alone, and that’s not fair to me…” without waiting for a response, he runs down the hallway in search for his friend. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">San is sat outside, sitting at the back entrance of the building, teeth chattering in the biting cold. There’s a tiny orange flare close to his mouth, “Sannie…” Mingi touches his shoulder, “Don’t smoke, please.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, this…” he takes one last drag before throwing it on the ground, stepping on it with his shoe, “I haven’t smoked ever since I was in high school. Don’t worry, Mingi, I won’t do it anymore.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sannie…” Mingi reaches up to caress his cheek, “I’m so sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“’S not your fault.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Doesn’t matter. Wooyoung told me what happened, and you two are my friends, I hate seeing you like this — why did you break up with him, Sannie?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">San refuses to meet his eyes, resting his head on his curled up knees and looking at the horizon, “Because he doesn’t deserve being with someone who lies like that.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I think that’s for him to decide—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I really thought my parents had changed their mind, Mingi…” his throat trembles with unshed tears as he muffles his voice in his sweater, “I didn’t want to lie to him, I hate lying to him! B-but fighting with my parents over the phone ever since they found out, it took everything out of me, it drained me so much that I prefer pretending this part of my life doesn’t exist. And Wooyoung made it so easy for me to pretend that they didn’t get to me, it didn’t matter because he was there for me even if I didn’t have the guts to tell him.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Small droplets of rain begin falling from the sky. It’s nothing serious, but Mingi suspects from the clouds that are slowly accumulating over their heads that a storm will begin soon. San doesn’t seem eager to leave any time soon. He watches as his friend wipes his cheeks with his sweater. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“W-when Wooyoung told me about his idea of our families finally meeting, I — Mingi, I lied to him. Without hesitation. I panicked, so I lied, and I convinced myself that everything would turn out okay. That I could finally have the normal relationship with my parents that Wooyoung does, and that’s why it’s so easy for him to so casually suggest a Christmas dinner. I—I told my mom first over one phone call and never talked to them again until the holidays.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sannie…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I secretly hoped that my parents would forget all about it and that they wouldn’t come, that the only thing I would have to deal with was a string of excuses at Wooyoung and his family. I was so anxious and terrified and I couldn’t tell him because it was all <em>my fault</em> so I got way too drunk and puked all over myself and the next day not only did I have a terrible hangover but also my parents decided to show up.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A whine escapes him, and finally, as if someone’s pulled the trigger: hot tears gush out, his nose gets so red Mingi can see its flush in the dark and his chest heaves up and down painfully. Mingi grabs his friend and crowds his shaking body into his embrace, as if the tighter he hugs him the sooner he’ll stop crying. San is hiding his face in his neck, and his clothes are getting soaked in rain and tears indistinguishable from one another. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“T-they sat there and refused to look at Wooyoung, just looked at <em>me,</em> and said <em>‘This has lasted long enough, don’t you think?’ </em>,” he cries out, his vocal chords straining, “That they ha-had let this go on for too long, how us moving in together was the last straw, h-how they couldn’t <em>believe</em> I would go this far —“ his words no longer have meaning. Just muffled sobs that shake Mingi to his core. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t know for sure how long they stay like that. Could be minutes, could also be an hour. He knows the rest of his classmates and their teacher will arrive at some point to begin practice, but San won’t stop shaking, and soon enough Mingi finds himself crying as well — it terrifies him, what San must have felt as he went through such humiliation, but knowing that he must have gone through worse when no one was around to help…</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi hasn’t felt this type of anger in his life; the silent rumbling of anger and desperation, the one that wishes to scream against injustice but ultimately cannot do much about it. It frustrates him to no end. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry Sannie, I’m so sorry…” he tells him, because there’s nothing else he can do but hold him through it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His friend has calmed down a bit, “Don’t be sorry, ’s no one’s fault but mine…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Still, I don’t understand you breaking up with Wooyoung, this only complicates things —“</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve hidden this from him for almost two years now, Mingi… And he’s definitely angry with me, he’s right about everything and he deserves so, <em>so</em> much better than me. I can’t — <em>I can’t </em>— I think it’s best if we’re apart.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t you love him?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“More than I’ve ever loved myself. Which is why I can’t burden him with my own troubles.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s silence for the next few moments. Mingi has no experience over relationships, and he doesn’t want to patronize San. This is something he will have to let his friend face on his own. “Did you kick Wooyoung out?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, Mingi, I would never. When we broke up I offered to leave the apartment and let him stay, but he—he was already grabbing his stuff and leaving. I only found out where he was staying because Hongjoong texted me a few days later. Ah, Hongjoongie,” San finally cracks the slightest smile, just a small upturn of his lip, “He’s a true lion heart. He’s been trying to patch things up between us ever since that happened. But this is something I need to figure out on my own.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I understand…” says Mingi, “Um, do you miss him?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I missed him even when we were together — He’d have to work for a few hours in the studio and I would mope like a some kind of lovesick fool… The more I touched him, the more I yearned for. He’s like a drug, Mingi. Ugh, I’m not making sense —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I know what you mean. I… I’ve felt that. It’s kind of agonizing, to be honest,” Mingi rambles, the way he does when he’s tired and his mouth feels like he’s swallowed a fluffy cloud, “You want to ask for more, but-but it’s not your place, you’ll look <em>needy</em>—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you— do you have a crush on someone, Mingi?!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I—“ ugh, what is the point of hiding? He’s spent an hour comforting his friend and listening to his personal trauma, it might feel cathartic to say it out loud for once. “I do. I have, for a while now. Please, don’t —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my God, I knew it,” San grabs him by his shoulders, shaking him, “I knew it, I knew it, all my suspicions were true! Oh, Mingi, it’s alright! I won’t say a word, I promise, but if you ever decide to try your chance, I’m pretty sure he’s into you as well!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Oh, shit.</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sannie —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We don’t have to talk about it, I understand,” San flashes him a smile, and Mingi sees in him a glimpse of happiness and even excitement. “But I’ve noticed things between you two for a while now, and it’s so obvious you two are into each other! I’ll let you take your time with him, do things your way. Just know that I’m here for you in case you need advice!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hugs Mingi again, squeezing him like a juicer, “Oh, Mingi! You and Yunho will make such a wonderful couple!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With every day that passes, Mingi feels like he’s digging himself a deeper hole to fall into. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s been trying to forget the whole incident with San — during which he made no corrections in case he shot himself in the foot by saying <em>‘Actually, San, not only do I have a crush on Yunho, I also like Hongjoong, and I have hated myself ever since the day I came to terms with the way my stupid brain works’ </em>— and his friend has been subtle like he promised, and it works because they practice during rehearsals for hours and San is mostly occupied with bickering with his ex-boyfriend while almost crossing the line of professionalism. So, he almost forgets that someone else knows <em>half</em> of his secret. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Except for the looks San gives him when he and Yunho are on stage, as Horatio and Hamlet respectfully, those knowing smiles that keep him constantly on edge in fear he’ll slip up and get discovered. As a result, his reaction to everything Yunho says, including his completely un-related lines, is flushing until his skin turns the color of a freshly-picked radish. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They’re practicing their lines in front of everyone under Seonghwa’s scrutinizing gaze and Ms. Kim’s encouraging words. In this scene, Hamlet is supposed to be holding his deceased jester’s skull as he and Horation exchange words — but San will have the (fake) skull ready next week, so for now Seonghwa has given him one of the tangerines he brought for lunch <em>‘because it’s round’</em>. It’s also tiny, compared to his actual head. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It doesn’t help that Yunho is constantly giggling, in the way that makes Mingi swoon, because Yunho can muffle the sound of his laugh but he can’t help but smile, all teeth and cheeks red from the pressure. “You are contemplating death, you two,” the third year scolds them, “Try and be a little more serious, I’m begging you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi holds it up under the spotlight. He musters a serious expression, <em>“Oh, poor Yorick! I used to know him, Horatio—“ </em>is all he can say before Yunho lets out a disgustingly loud cackle before he’s reduced to laughing as well, and the rest of their classmates and friends are also giggling at the sight, because no matter how hard Seonghwa tries to explain to them that they need to pretend and see past the tangerine, all Mingi can see is a fucking tangerine. And Yunho’s smile. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong ends up writing ‘Yorick’ with sharpie over the tangerine and deems it a perfectly good replacement for the skull until San is done with his work, much to Seonghwa’s raging disappointment in them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They seem to be working productively for about a week before something happens that sends Ms. Kim spiraling into a mental breakdown. So far, she’s definitely been the jittery sort of excited old little lady, so it’s a shock to see her so anxious about something. Mingi feels like his heart is tearing into pieces. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“O-of course it isn’t his fault, so please don’t put the blame on your classmate! Sometimes, things happen in our lives that we simply cannot predict, and both me and him are incredibly saddened. But, alas, our lovely and talented Dongwu cannot keep attending our rehearsals and won’t be part of the play,” she announces, and a wave of silence covers the rest of the troop, “So, the role of the Ghost of the King of Denmark will have to be filled by someone else. We have two options: either one of you will play a double role, or we’ll have to find someone who’s willing to start from scratch and catch up to the rest of us.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before anyone has a chance to speak up, Seonghwa is already on his toes, “Ms. Kim! I have the perfect man for the role!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh! Seonghwa! Are you finally going to participate in the play? Our shining star!” their professor’s eyes sparkle, her flush color returning to her features, “Goodness, I’m so excited —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, no,” he corrects her, “The difference between me and the rest of the students would be <em>glaring</em> —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">San and Wooyoung let out a snorting cackle at the same time. They awkwardly look at each other before averting their eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ms. Kim, I can assure you, although he’s definitely not an actor of my repertoire, I have a classmate who will be able to memorize his lines in a day and will astonish you with his acting!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s talking about Yeosangie, isn’t he?” Hongjoong murmurs to Mingi. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi isn’t surprised to find Yeosang practicing his lines with Seonghwa the next day during lunch. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The atmosphere in their gatherings has been slightly tense ever since San and Wooyoung revealed their break-up. Of course, they haven’t been to the apartment in a month now, and Mingi misses it more than anything; mostly, he misses the memories and the familiar warmth he experienced there. But the two of them, after being scolded by Hongjoong, have promised to remain professional and not forget about their friends, so they try their hardest to coexist within their group without fighting and bickering. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s still weird to see them sit at opposite sides of the table. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yunho arrives a few minutes later, because he always takes too long to decide what he wants to eat —even with the limited options of the cafeteria— with Jongho by his side. The first year doesn’t always have time to sit with them during his lunch, but he’s been organically integrated into their little, dysfunctional for the moment, but loving group. “Pizza!” he announces. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s the farthest thing from pizza they could ever serve,” Yeosang comments while he takes a break from reciting. Seonghwa smiles at Jongho and proceeds to cut up even more fruit from his lunch, silently depositing them in his tray. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, thank you—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He always does that,” Mingi explains. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We don’t eat enough fruit,” Wooyoung says, “That’s why our Seonghwa always makes sure to make us eat some so we don't suffer from scurvy.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jongho eat his apple slices without much protest. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I want some too,” Yunho whines, “I’ve been living off of cup ramen for the past week and I feel so bloated…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re busy,” Yeosang pulls on Seonghwa’s jacket to make the older turn around and pay attention to him. It’s a sight to witness when Seonghwa’s ears turn the deepest shade of red. Hongjoong and Mingi exchange knowing glances. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Valentine’s day is coming up,” San mentions out of the blue, knocking Mingi’s knee underneath the table. A small piece of cheesy bread gets stuck in Mingi’s throat, and he forces it down with a whole bottle of water. He has a feeling this conversation isn’t going to end well, “Jongho, do you have a date planned?” well, at least he’s being subtle about it. Wooyoung swallows audibly from the other side of the table. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The youngest of the group furrows his brows in confusion, “No, not really. I'm not one for cheesy holidays like that. Maybe that will change if I’m ever interested in someone.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re still a baby,” Hongjoong laughs, ruffling his hair. Jongho blushes and looks down at his food, and Mingi thinks he’s probably regretting ever joining them for lunch. A small part of him wants to experience the primal action of getting his head petted as well. It takes every ounce of self-control to not lean his head over and wait until his needs are met. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t notice Wooyoung eyeing him suspiciously. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What about you, Seonghwa?” San shifts the conversation towards the theatre student. Yeosang side-eyes him, eyes turning to slits like a cat. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“At the moment I am occupied with helping Yeosang interpret his role,” Seonghwa replies diplomatically, “so that’s what I’ll be doing next week. Just because someone said it’s Valentine’s day it doesn’t mean we have to spend all of our money on chocolates for the sake of it.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hm, I agree,” Hongjoong says, “But I think you shouldn't really need one specific day in order to show your affection to the person you like.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, c’mon Hongjoongie, we all know what a fucking sap you are in real life!” Wooyoung pinches his sides. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s not true! Stop —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And what about you, Yunho?” <em>Oh God, there we go,</em> “Are you going to ask someone to be your Valentine next week?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is it with you asking everyone about Valentine’s day?” Wooyoung snaps at him finally, like a kettle going off, “Why are you so interested all of a sudden?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">San’s smile falters, “I’m just making small talk.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“About everyone’s personal life? You know, if you’re so eager to celebrate Valentine’s day with someone new, at least don’t be a pain in the ass about it to the rest of us!” Wooyoung smacks his books on the cafeteria table and rushes to the door. Many students follow him with their eyes before turning to their lunches. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I—“ San starts, but Seonghwa grabs his arm and forces him to sit back down. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let him be,” he says, “You decided it was for the best that you stay alone for a while. Don't make it even more difficult for him.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi sees Wooyoung entering the bathroom stalls and the door swinging behind him. He takes one last sip of his drink before standing up, “I’ll be back in a bit,” he informs his friends, but a hand grabs his sweater before he can walk. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“C-can you see if Wooyoung is okay? He… he doesn’t like to be alone when he’s upset.” San’s lip trembles. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t worry,” Mingi assures him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wooyoung is sat on top of the sink in the empty bathroom stalls, legs hanging off the edge and swinging up and down lazily. He’s picking at the mousy grey nail polish that covers his fingernails. “You’ll ruin your nails,” Mingi says awkwardly. He’s seen his friend painting them meticulously whenever they would hang out at his (old) apartment, even doing San’s whenever his hands weren’t covered in spray paint and clay, <em>“For an art student, you’re really shit at painting your own nails, Sannie baby,”</em> he’d tell him before taking one hand into his and choosing an iridescent blue for him. “Don’t do that.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nasty habit,” Wooyoung explains, “Do you need to pee or are you here to check up on me?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hm,” Mingi thinks, “both, actually. But the first can wait until I know you’re okay.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wooyoung’s lips curl into a shy smile, “Ugh, Mingi-yah! So pure and wholesome.” He motions for Mingi to come and join him on the sink. Mingi props himself up after checking there’s no water on the surface. “I promised Hongjoong and Seonghwa that I wouldn’t make scene for the rest of you guys, we both did. But San,” he sighs, “he gets on my<em> fucking </em>nerves, and I love him —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He loves you too, Wooyoungie —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Which is why he gets on my nerves, he's being so stupid!” he whines in frustration, “I don’t understand, is he trying to make me jealous for no reason?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He…” Mingi sighs, “It’s nothing, he’s doing it to tease me,” he averts his gaze when Wooyoung looks at him perplexed, “N-no, not like that. I— he’s trying to set me up on a date.” He really doesn't want Wooyoung to think that there’s anything going on between him and San, so, where’s the harm in revealing just part of the truth? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His friend remains silent for a few seconds before he whispers, barely audibly, “Oh my God,” then grabs Mingi by the collar of his sweater, “Mingi, <em>finally!” </em></span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s a familiar feeling brewing in his chest, a warning. He ignores it, like a fool. “Uh, sorry?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you going to ask Hongjoong out for Valentine’s day?!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Oh no, no, no —</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“W-woo—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know, it’s been obvious that you’ve had the biggest crush on him ever since you two met, I’ve seen the way you act around him, my poor innocent Mingi!” there’s a devilish glint in his friend’s eyes that Mingi doesn’t like one bit, because it only means trouble, “And you’ve finally decided to act upon your affections!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wooyoung, I just, please —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, don't you worry! I’m not going to let a word slip from my mouth!” he emphasizes by ‘zipping’ it with his fingers, “But Mingi! Finally! Do you know how torturous it has been to watch you pine over him without doing anything?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi’s heart is going to jump out of his chest, “O-okay, listen. I really um,” <em>it’s not a lie if it’s half the truth, right?</em> “I just want to do stuff in my own terms, Wooyoungie. Um, I’m really thankful that you’re happy for me, but just — please let me handle this on my own, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A hand cups his cheek tenderly, “Don’t worry, little Mingi. I’d never expose you like that to your crush. You have my full support, in any case. Also, Hongjoong is definitely into you as well.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve noticed, I’m sure of it. He’s a very closed-off person when it comes to his feelings and you won’t pry a word out of him, unless,” he pokes Mingi’s chest, “you’re the subject of his affections. He’s a secret romantic, he’ll just pretend to not like it because he wants more attention and doesn’t know how to ask for it without stumbling all over himself.” The image of Hongjoong acting like that isn’t something he can imagine vividly but he’ll take Wooyoung’s word for it. “I hope you two get your shit together soon and can be all disgustingly cute.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi chuckles and the conversation ends in a warm, comforting hug. In the crook of his neck, Wooyoung hides his face and whispers a question that would otherwise make him avert his eyes in shame, “Y-you don’t think San is going on a date on Valentine’s with someone else, right?” Mingi’s not the only one who needs to get his shit together; the realization is way more comforting than it should be. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re the only one for him, Wooyoungie.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you so much for giving kudos and comments! all of them are so appreciated and i love reading them, so don't be shy♡♡ :3c <br/>we're one chapter till the end! hohoho ♡</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> i am announcing to you that you all need to cancel your valentine’s day plans</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[joongie~]:</b> is this some sort of incel breakdown </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> no one here had any plans anyway </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[sannie]:</b> speak for yourself </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> ?????///?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> lisTen my mom is organizing a valentine’s themed party for her coworkers and my dad and she told me to invite you guys because she wants to meet you and it will make her happy </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> so you will come </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yeosangie]:</b> what about our practice? :// </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> you can come earlier and we can practice your lines </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[yeosangie]:</b> i will come </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[joongie~]:</b> ….</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[woowoo]:</b> YOUR MOM IS THE CUTEST i honestly don't know how she puts up with you</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>[hwa]:</b> i am her precious talented son why wouldn't she put up with me</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Seonghwa’s house is exactly like Mingi has always pictured it; sleek with modern furniture in soft muted colors. The walls are covered in family pictures, however, some water-color paintings and an excessive amount of diplomas and prizes with Seonghwa's name written all over them. It’s a surprising contrast; but it also testifies to what Mingi has always suspected — that his friend is a man of many talents. There are also some added paper decorations, like heart-shaped garlands and shiny red balloons. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His parents are both teachers working at the same school, all dressed up in fancy clothes and drinking wine with a few more middle-aged couples as their guests. He makes some awkward small-talk with them about his major because there's really nothing else he can discuss with them before Seonghwa seemingly flies down the staircase and saves him like a damsel in distress, “Mingi! We’re upstairs,” he says, grabbing his arm and walking up to the second floor. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Seonghwa, darling, you’re welcome to come downstairs and sit with us! There’s eight of you up there, how are you even fitting in your room?” His mother whines, </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We're fine, no worries!” he yells and they're in front of his bedroom door, “I’m sorry, they’re good people but they can just be a bit too much sometimes. We can come downstairs if we run out of snacks.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s a spacious single bed in the center of the room that’s posed against the wall where San, Yunho and Jongho sit curled up like cats and are going through his vintage, avant-garde, <em>‘Pretentious’</em>, as Hongjoong would say, film collection on dvd and VHS tapes. Wooyoung is spinning around on his desk chair, clicking away on his computer, Yeosang is pouring himself a glass of wine and Hongjoong is searching for a board game to play, even though there’s limited floor space. “Okay, this is a murder-mystery game for 6-10 players—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Seonghwa, this looks like porn,” San picks up a dusty dvd case and Mingi catches a glimpse of a naked nipple on the cover. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nude doesn’t always have to be sexual,” Seonghwa reasons, taking Mingi’s coat off and hanging it into his closet, “It’s a recording of an Ancient Greek play.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, that explains it then,” San seems satisfied. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi-yah!” Hongjoong puts the board game back at the top shelf — on his tiptoes, how cute — and comes up to greet Mingi. He’s wearing a pastel pink beret with a few shiny silver pins on it and a pair of lavender corduroy overalls; it’s a different look, it makes him look smaller and soft and less intimidating than his usual style. Pink shimmer sparkles at the corners of his eyes in the subtlest ways, but Mingi catches it because he can’t stop staring, can’t look away until he’s covered every inch of Hongjoong with his gaze, “Guess what! I finished your costume! You can wear it in our next rehearsal and I’ll see if I need to adjust anything.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh?” his mind races to how his hands gripped his waist, how he talked about his shoulders, how he leaned into his lips in a dusty attic, and there’s <em>six</em> more people in this room — “Can’t wait! Thank you for your hard work, Hongjoong.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ahh, don’t only thank me! Wooyoungie has been an exceptionally cooperative assistant — “</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s saying that because I have to put him to sleep whenever he pulls two all-nighters in a row,” Wooyoung says with a snark. “But yes, my skills in sewing have been useful as well,” he grins in satisfaction, all toothy. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You are amazing,” San’s timid voice speaks up, and an awkward silence falls into place. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wine!” Yeosang says loudly, showing off a bottle that’s dangerously close to being half-empty. “Mingi, want some wine?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When is my costume going to be finished?” Yunho whines childishly, but everyone knows he's not really that concerned. It’s almost as if he’s doing it to get attention. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And Hongjoong gives in, because he jumps onto the bed —Jongho shrieks as he almost falls— and begins pitching his sides, “Well someone’s a big fucking diva over here!” They roll around and San’s screaming as they push him off the bed, and Seonghwa complains about them messing up his sheets. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay! Okay!” Yeosang steps in, still holding the bottle. He’s definitely a bit buzzed, “Stop shouting, we are grown people so we should do grown-up things,” he clears his throat, “Let’s finish this wine and play spin the bottle.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh, this could go wrong in so many ways, Mingi doesn’t have enough fingers to count them. Apparently, Jongho thinks so as well. There’s at least one braincell in their friend group. “Uh, we're not in middle school,” says Jongho, and his tone is judgmental but there’s an obvious blush consuming his cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So?” Yeosang reasons, “We can still have a bit of fun.” his gaze turns to Seonghwa, expecting a reaction.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m in,” Yunho says casually, “I don’t mind kissing any of you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yunho!” San exclaims with a laugh. Two hands come up to rub on Yunho’s shoulders and San leans in to his ear, as if he's devil tempting his prey, “Of course you’ll play. It’s going to be fun!” He nods his eyebrows just enough for Mingi to notice, and Mingi wouldn’t mind perishing right about now. Yunho’s always been open about his sexuality and his fondness for skin-ship, and San is definitely going to take advantage of that. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean…” Seonghwa clears his throat, “Since we’re all single now, I don’t think there’s an issue.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s just meaningless fun, Seonghwa. Doesn’t have to be weird,” says Yunho. Mingi bites his lip. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t realize Wooyoung has sat up and is standing right behind him until he feels a faint whisper in his ear, “This is perfect,” he tells him, taking advantage of the commotion caused by Jongho and San arguing, “Hey, Mingi, just say the word and I’ll make sure that fucking bottle lands on Hongjoong for you, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi’s eyes bulge out, “What, why—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s the perfect excuse to kiss him, what do you mean ‘why’? Makes things much easier for the both of you to confess, don’t you think?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Why is <em>he</em>, of all people, in the unfortunate position to have two dumbass friends who want to play matchmaker with both of his crushes? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are both of you making my life so difficult?” he groans. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wooyoung tilts his head, “Both…” he looks around the room and catches sight of San still rubbing Yunho’s shoulders, “Fuck, is San trying to set you up with Yunho? Is that who he’s trying to make you date? Oh, what an idiot. If I still talked to him, I would explain everything —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“O-okay, no one’s explaining anything! Just, stop, both of you—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wooyoungie, why are you making Mingi-yah all upset?” Hongjoong chooses the perfect moment to jump in, it seems, and save Mingi, “Being a brat again? Go sit down on the floor so we can witness Yeosang and Seonghwa awkwardly flirt before they suck each other’s face off.” Mingi doesn’t have enough time to say anything before his ass is planted on the soft carpet — right in between Yunho and Hongjoong. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A small part of him dies inside. He doesn’t remember much from middle school, but he’s pretty sure there are far more chances to kiss someone who sits opposite of you than someone on your side. Perhaps this is both a blessing and a curse, though. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi, you’re not supposed to sit there,” San says hurriedly from the opposite side of the circle, and grabs his arm to drag him across the floor. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey-hey, stop being a brute,” Seonghwa protests, dismantling San’s grip from his arm, “Let him sit wherever he wants.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Here are the rules,” Yeosang begins after everyone has settled down, “We go clock-wise, each person spinning the bottle twice: the first spin determines the person who kisses, the second the person who gets kissed.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is there really a difference?” Jongho questions. He never gets an answer, because Wooyoung is already grabbing the empty wine bottle and announces with a shriek that he will be the first to spin. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bottle swishes easily against the carpet and Mingi catches his reflection against the dark maroon glass. He ponders about his impending doom. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The first spin lands on Jongho. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You are doing this on purpose!” the first year exclaims, bringing his knees close to his chest. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I swear I’m not, it’s just your luck, my dear Jongho…” Wooyoung giggles as he spins the bottle for a second time. His laughter is cut off short once it stops. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well,” San speaks up after a few seconds of silence. “Are you going to come and kiss me?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jongho can’t stop staring Wooyoung, and Wooyoung won’t move his eyes away from San, “Go kiss him, Jongho. Everyone will get their turn.” He says eventually, voice cold. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Reluctantly, Jongho leans over to where San is sitting cross-legged, unmoving, almost like a statue. There's the softest press on San’s lips, feather-light and silent, and Jongho’s eyes are closed but San’s aren’t; they’re on Wooyoung, and Wooyoung only. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I hated that,” Jongho sighs once he’s back at his little spot, his neck and cheeks a vibrant pink. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You are all traumatizing our youngest,” Seonghwa breaks the tension, “Stop being weird and let’s continue the game.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Coincidentally, it’s Yeosang’s turn to spin the bottle. Mingi’s pretty sure he does something on purpose —probably by pointing his pinkie out— so that the first spin lands exactly in front of him, and that the second spin lands on the obvious object of his desire. He raises himself up on all fours, crawling across the floor until his nose is bumping against Seonghwa’s. There’s a millisecond where they both let out shaky breaths before their lips connect, shyly at first and then, as if an all-consuming need takes over, with fervent passion that has Mingi staring unabashedly at the two boys finally acting upon their glaring desire. He listens to the small sounds their lips make as they kiss, and he wants to feel that for himself, he wants to kiss, he wants to <em>kiss</em> — </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s a faint touch of Yunho’s warm hand over his palm, before it’s pulled back. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s enough,” Seonghwa pulls away and speaks softly, cupping Yeosang’s cheek and stroking it tenderly. Yeosang nods as if in a trance. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now that that’s out of the way,” Hongjoong clears his throat once Yeosang is back at his spot, “Jongho, it’s your turn to spin.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The poor first year is sitting between Yeosang and Seonghwa, and Mingi can’t imagine the tension of standing in the middle, since they still look like they want to eat each other, despite not being alone in the room. Jongho spins it, and lets out a stream of curses when it lands on him once again. “I think someone has put a curse on me.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The second spin lands on Yunho. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi’s heart makes a leap, as if it’ll jump out of his mouth. He can feel San’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t dare stare back, because then everyone will know, everyone will suspect him, and then what’s worse, they won’t know the full truth. Yunho chuckles before he straightens his back. He smiles at Jongho, cheeks round and full, “I don’t put curses on people,” he clarifies, “Come smooch me, it’s not that big of a deal.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>You’ve certainly put a love-spell on me,</em> Mingi thinks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The kiss is short but Jongho doesn’t look as uncomfortable as before, probably because he’s not in the middle of a couple stupid enough to break up. Mingi, once again, can’t tear his eyes off of the sight: how Yunho’s lips move, locking into place. Letting the other’s lip push underneath his own, until he’s the one who’s getting his lips sucked, and suddenly there’s no Jongho and Mingi is in his place, imagining the soft electric feel and just the thought makes him vibrate with want, his toes numbing because he can’t move, only witness. And then, Mingi imagines pulling away, only for Hongjoong to take his place in kissing Yunho — because someone always has to be kissing him — and he would once again be witness to a kiss, but it would be <em>them,</em> and he cannot bare to think about it without the hair at the nape of his neck standing up. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yunho stops kissing Jongho and the daydream is over. He’s flushed, brown curly hair framing his face in an utmost cherubic way. He’s wearing a yellow cardigan today, with a thin long-sleeve underneath the color of almond-tree blossoms. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Seonghwa spins the bottle, it lands on Yeosang again. Mingi’s pretty sure the game is rigged. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then, it’s San’s turn. The bottle, by some twisted notion of fate or karma, lands on Wooyoung on the first spin. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The second time, the neck of the glass point as Mingi. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wooyoung refuses to look at anyone, eyes fixed on the fluffy grey carpet, engrossed in the details of the design. San’s eyes shift from him to Mingi, waiting to see what is going to happen. And something doesn't sit right in Mingi’s stomach, because these two are his friends and they’re being idiots but he’s not going to plunge the knife deeper and twist it just for fun, especially because he knows how much they’re both hurting right now. It would certainly teach them a lesson, with how egotistical and arrogant they’re both being, too proud to admit to each other their faults. But Mingi’s not that kind of person. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I’m not going to kiss you.” he declares in a determined tone. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-It’s just a game.” Wooyoung whispers, but Mingi can see the hesitation in his voice. He's clearly uncomfortable. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t want to kiss you.” he says again, and it’s final. “I’m not going to do that to you two.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay!” Hongjoong clears his throat after a few minutes of deafening silence, “I think we’ve had some fun playing this game, let’s move on to something else.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y’know what, I’m starving.” Yunho adds, “Seonghwa, can we eat dinner?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can bring some food up here,” the young man says, “Trust me, you don’t want to start a conversation at the dinner table with my parents and their friends,” he turns to Yeosang, who’s playing with the longer strands of hair that frame his face, “Sangie, wanna come help me?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi doesn’t miss the way they hold hands as they walk down the stairs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“H-hey, Mingi —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think you two have caused enough problems with your own issues, Sannie,” Hongjoong scolds him. They all know he could never really be mad at any of them, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to put his friends in their place when they need to, “I’ve kept quiet all this time for your and Wooyoung’s sake, but you keep behaving like bratty children, and you make us all feel very uncomfortable. And our poor Mingi-yah over here.” Mingi doesn’t say anything to correct him. “Get your shit together, the both of you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wooyoung picks at his nails. San sighs, “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, Mingi.” Mingi gives him a small smile. He knows his friend wouldn’t do anything on purpose. “I’ll be in the garden for a smoke,” he announces before exiting the room. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait,<em> what</em> — don’t tell me you’ve started smoking again — hey, Sannie!” Wooyoung runs after him, his voice sounding distant as they walk down to the first floor. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s just the four of them in Seonghwa’s room now. Jongho announces that he’s going to play a game on the computer for a bit, putting on his friend’s over-ear headphones before booting up the screen. The rest of them sit on the bed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well that was awkward.” Mingi doesn’t have anything else to say. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know, I’m sorry Mingi,” Hongjoong, “They’re both stupid.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They’re trying to make each other jealous out of spite, but that doesn’t mean you get to do stuff you don’t want.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Exactly,” Yunho agrees, “You should only kiss people you want to kiss.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi leans back until he’s lying down on the sheets, contemplating that statement. He’s suddenly very aware of how the two boys crowd over him, still sitting. He feels exposed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you have anyone you want to kiss, Mingi-yah?” Hongjoong dares to ask. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you have someone in mind?” Yunho catches up with the questions. They’re both leaning in closer now, and Mingi’s sure they’re going to keep pestering him with questions until he messes up because he’s going to have to choose, and he doesn’t want to make a choice. Why can’t he just have both? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thankfully, Yunho says something that he can use to his advantage, “I can read your tarot cards for you if you’re interested in someone.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Right, tarot cards; Yunho’s interests in the magical and the mystical. He can work with that. As long as he's not lying flat on the bed with two ethereal beings over him tearing his heart apart. With Jongho in the room, nonetheless. “I’d like that,” he says and sits up, gently pushing them away, “Um, we should make some space for the cards.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once they’re settled with ample space in between them, Yunho produces a small packet of cards from his backpack. It’s wrapped in a dark purple ribbon that he unwraps with his long, pretty fingers. The cards are beautifully illustrated, strokes of watercolor creating shapes of stars, moons and the Major Arcana characters, with shiny silver details on their clothes. He lets them out of the box and settles his left hand over them for a few seconds, eyes closed and breathing softly. Mingi and Hongjoong watch as Yunho shuffles them, makes sure to touch each and every single card before laying them down in front of Mingi. “I want you to pick out seven cards for me. Take your time and think about which card you’re drawn to the most. You can close your eyes if you want.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong shuffles until he’s sitting behind Mingi, his hands around his torso and chin tucked on his shoulder, leaning over him to look at the cards. “A-are you going to tell me my future?” at Yunho’s chuckle, he bites his lip, “Sorry, I don’t really know about any of this.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“’S okay, Mingi,” Yunho assures him, “No one can really speak of the future. But people sometimes use tools, like tarot cards, to gain insight into their own self.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi thinks for a bit, “Like meditation?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yunho’s face lights up, “Yeah, like meditation! You put your intention out into the world while picking out the cards, and the cards will reflect thoughts that are already within you. But sometimes, in order to understand ourselves and decide on our actions, we need to see them all laid out in front of us.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hm, I’ve never thought of it like that…” murmurs Hongjoong, breath warming the small of Mingi’s neck. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, think about the person you’re interested. Put your intention into it,” Yunho instructs, “And draw a card.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi sighs and closes his eyes. Hongjoong’s slim, elfish nose bumps against his shoulder the moment he picks one out, feeling it with his hands before handing it over to where Yunho’s hands probably are. The other boy meets him halfway and tells him to keep picking until he stops him. Soon enough, he’s picked out seven cards. Mingi opens his eyes to see them displayed on the sheets one after the other, creating the shape of an arrow that points to the edge of the mattress. Since he's not familiar with the designs, he can’t immediately spiral into an anxiety-induced breakdown, even though one card near the far end looks particularly ominous: a crumbling medieval tower struck by lighting. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay…” Yunho’s tone doesn't really comfort Mingi, but the boy remains skeptical as he inspects what he has in front of him, “So, as you can see by the shape, this is a ‘Cupid’s Arrow’ spread — it will give insight towards your feelings and the person you like and it can help you decide what you can do in the future,” his friend informs him in a factual tone, but his eyes are reaching into Mingi’s, searching for something Mingi cannot bare to confess. “The first card reveals the nature of the person of interest: if they are shy or if they are approachable.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mm…” Mingi murmurs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hm, I would say this person is definitely charismatic and romantic.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A-and how do you deduce that?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You drew the Page of Cups: cups are associated with instinct, feelings, affection and fertility. And the Page is a symbol of youth and careless adolescence. It’s definitely a love interest straight out of a novel.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I guess… But that doesn’t make them approachable just because they’re dreamy…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hm…” Yunho mumbles, “It seems as if they are um, quite ironically unaware of the situation,” he says as he point to the next card. On it, a man sits underneath a tree, staring at the three cups in front of him in thought. A detached hand is offering him a fourth cup, but he refuses to acknowledge its existence. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He looks as if he’s not taking advantage of his chances,” Hongjoong studies the card, and Yunho’s eyes light up. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right: we could say that he’s content with the three cups he already has, but he seems to have a look that says otherwise. They are refusing an opportunity and continue to remain unfulfilled.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi furrows his brows but doesn’t comment. Yunho’s words to make sense, given the way he explains the context and the illustrations of the cards, but he just doesn’t know what to make of the interpretation yet. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And it seems like you’re stuck in the mud as well, Mingi,” his friend continues, snapping him out of his thoughts, “Two of Swords,” he gestures to the third card, in which a woman holds two swords crossed over her chest with a blindfold over her eyes in front an endless stretch of sea, “You’re in a dilemma — you have to choose between two options, but you’re unsure as to which will be the right one for you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi gulps — these cards are beginning to get weirdly accurate and it’s making his ears blush. He’s not sure if he wants to keep going with this. Now both Yunho and Hongjoong are looking at the cards, as if trying to solve a mathematical problem in which the answer is him, “That’s… vague.” he tries to sound dismissive. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ultimately, you seek for union,” the second year points to the next two cards: The Lovers, and the Two of Cups, “Both cards symbolize the dyadic nature of love and peace, the resolution of conflict.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi coughs into his fist, sweat dripping down his neck. Can Hongjoong feel how sweaty he is? “Uh,” he scrambles for something to say, “T-this deck is old, right? I-I mean, how can we be sure of its accuracy when The Lovers are only depicted as a man and a woman? Love isn’t about gender—“ he rambles on but Hongjoong and Yunho are already giggling, and the focus shifts. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, Mingi-yah,” Hongjoong laughs, petting his hair. He has to resist the urge to purr at the sensation. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re right though, Mingi,” Yunho says, “Many decks are designed by different artists who draw The Lovers as gender-neutral humans. This deck is a very old design though, and it’s very strict with the illustrations of each card. Plus,” he picks up the card, “think of it more as a symbol, rather than a faithful representation,” he places his hand next to Mingi’s ear, as if he’s comparing the sight of his two friends and the illustration on the card, “See, the picture might look different, but the meaning remains true.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong’s breath hitches, and Mingi can hear it right against his ear, and he can also feel the slightest squeeze of his friend’s hands around his torso, and the slight droop in Yunho’s eyes that’s so insignificant no one would be able to tell it happened but him— he’s spent far too much time staring at him to not notice such details. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay!” he exclaims, a bit louder than he intends to, “Onto the next card, please!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s met with The Tower. The card that caught his eye in the beginning; a building that reminds him of a medieval fortress that is struck by lighting, bricks and debris falling onto people who are running for their lives. It certainly doesn’t forebode him in a benevolent way. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve heard that’s not a good card,” Hongjoong whispers. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop scaring him!” Yunho whines, “Mingi, don’t get scared. It’s an intimidating card, but it warns you about the path you’re heading towards.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As if that sounds less ominous…” says Mingi. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The Tower signifies a point in someone’s life in which a drastic change takes place, usually. It shows that your previous beliefs are too weak to withstand the course of time, and you need to change your way of thinking in order to progress. And doing so is definitely not easy, hence the Tower crumbling to the ground. It’s about rebirth, Mingi.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi has decided that he hates this card. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And it leads to the last card you pulled,” says Yunho, picking up the point of the arrow. A crimson-colored heart with three swords plunged into it. “The Three of Swords. Mind versus Heart.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That sounds very much like you, Mingi-yah.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mingi turns to Hongjoong, “Huh?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re such an empath,” the third year explains, “But sometimes you get way too much into your head.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hm…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Three of Swords. There’s a bizarre harmony to the picture in the way the heart gets pierced; one sword slicing it vertically, the other two crossing over each other. A singular sword would have perhaps been too solemn. Two swords, perhaps too symmetrical. Three… </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With three, it’s balanced.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>When Mingi goes to sleep that night, he dreams of being on stage, acting out the scene where Hamlet gets stabbed by Laertes’ poisonous sword — but Hongjoong and Yunho have the same role on stage, holding different swords, their points are edged into Mingi’s heart, and he’s not supposed to feel actual pain, he’s on stage, the blood is supposed to be fake, why is it so crimson — </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Two of Swords,” Yunho spits out the words with the same poison he coated his blade with. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Make the choice,” Hongjoong says. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A couple of months later, life seems as if it’s moving forward in speedy haste, and Mingi is breathless just from attempting to keep up with the flow. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Apart from the exhausting, energy-draining rehearsals that have taken up most of his time, he ends up skipping most of his readings and homework in favor of getting a few more hours of sleep. He thinks he’s holding everything together in a pretty good grip, until he receives back three sloppily written essays covered in red ink and his life falls apart as easily as a house of cards. With marks that certainly do not suit a student like him, as his teachers keep saying. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You need to catch up, Mingi,” his professors remind him, “Unless you plan on cramming four months of studying into a single night right before you fail your finals.” And Mingi stays silent, because he has nothing to say to defend himself, and he's also never wanted to take a nap more in his life, “I’ve heard from Ms. Kim that you're participating in her play. Now, she might excuse you for slacking off, but I certainly won’t.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And so, defeated and exhausted, Mingi drags his body to his dorm and passes out in his bed without getting any reading done. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All he does when he’s awake is pace around his room and recite his lines — unfortunately, he's the only one in the crew who still forgets some words here and there, but it drives him nuts. He’ll mess up at least once or twice in each scene, and Seonghwa will have to read some of the script again to remind him, as he stands there sweating and feeling his cheeks get redder and redder. He doesn't know why this keeps happening to him — the moment he goes on stage, his mind will short-circuit whenever it feels like it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s a recurring issue that builds on top of the already icy tension between his classmates. Many of them will break into a fight behind the scenes because of technical issues with the lights and the curtains, and at least one item of clothing needs to be repaired at the end of the day by a rushing Hongjoong and his emergency sewing kit in hand. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Perhaps we can wait until a week or two before the performance for the kids to wear their costumes,” Ms. Kim comments worriedly as a student steps all over another’s cape on stage, “That will need to be washed…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They need to learn to move in their costumes,” Seonghwa insists but doesn’t look up from his notebook, “I’m going to need a light on Jennie from the left during this line,” he mumbles to himself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, but I’m the one who keeps repairing them,” Hongjoong snaps, sweat dripping down his temple. Yet he gets no response, as if he's talking to a brick wall. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hongjoongie…” Wooyoung proceeds with caution, “I don’t mean to alarm you but Riuji got coffee all over her Ophelia dress <em>please don’t kill me</em> —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s velvet!” Hongjoong screams as he rushes to the dressing room, a litany of <em>“Shit! Fuck” </em>leaving his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No swearing…” Ms. Kim scolds him weakly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Amidst all of the chaos that they have to deal with on the daily, at least the stage set-up is turning out marvelous: San has created an elaborate structure of wooden panels that can be moved, resembling the turning pages of a storybook to change with each Act. All the panels are fully painted with acrylics and spray paint, illustrating the changing settings as the plot progresses. The outside and inside of the palace, the graveyard, the sword hall — all of it looks straight out of a fairytale. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they take breaks, San will get up on stage and keep on working on some unfinished parts with his brushes, concentrated and listening to music with his earphones plugged in. He can't tell, but Wooyoung will always sit at the front seat to watch him work while he pretends to help Hongjoong out. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Truth is, Mingi is certain that something is going to happen soon that will make everything fall apart. He just doesn’t expect it to happen on a casual Saturday night while their professor is absentfrom their rehearsal — she doesn't always accompany them, insisting that she trusts Seonghwa in replacing her. Perhaps she is the thread that’s holding everyone from snapping at each other, and once she’s gone, they end up attacking like rabid dogs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It starts off horribly; Mingi is on stage, rehearsing a joint scene with Yunho, and once again, his mind goes blank. Nothing. Head empty. <em>“Nice to see you again, Horatio—that is your name, right?”</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“That’s me, sir. Still your respectful servant.”</em> Yunho replies. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Not my servant, but my friend,”</em> Mingi says, and then when he opens his mouth again, nothing comes out. He stays like that for a while, lips parted and a blank stare as he’s struggling to remember his next lines. There's a lump in his throat and as much as he tries, his skull starts hurting from clenching his jaw too hard. “I— <em>Not my servant, b-but my friend.</em> Um —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“But what are you doing so far from Wittenberg…”</em> Yunho whispers to him, urging him to continue. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop!” Seonghwa’s voice startles both of them, “Yunho, what do you think you’re doing?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I— he need a little push…” the second year stammers. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t whisper someone’s lines while you’re on the fucking stage! We’re not in primary school!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So what, we’re just gonna stand in front of each other silent while the audience waits?!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, Mingi!” Seonghwa turns to him, and Mingi feels his soul leave his body, “Why haven’t you learnt your lines yet?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“B-but I have—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s the third time I’ve heard you mess up in the last ten minutes.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And fuck, Mingi can feel his eyes getting teary with unshed tears, and there’s a spotlight on him so he’s visible to everyone, and suddenly his costume feels extremely tight on his body in a suffocating way and he just wants to get off stage and lock himself in the bathroom for a good three hours, “I-I have a lot of lines…” he can’t find anything else to say. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We can’t keep working like this though,” Seonghwa has gotten up from his seat and is slowly approaching the edge of the stage, “I don't know what your issue is, but you need to fix it. We're a month away from the festival, Mingi!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oi, Seonghwa,” Yunho snaps, and there’s a look in his eye that Mingi has never seen before, “You’re not being very helpful right now. You’re supposed to be directing us.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“All you do is just yell at us lately,” someone says from the back of the stage, “Every time we mess up, you start screaming.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t scream— And Mingi isn’t the only one who keeps forgetting his lines, you’re all slacking off if I’m being honest!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re not professional fucking actors!” Riuji shouts, “We’re in this because it’s an extracurricular activity, just for fun! And you know what, this really isn’t fun anymore…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah,” another student agrees, “This is all so exhausting, I don’t have time for anything else other than this stupid play.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Since you all agreed to join this, you need to do your best, and I will take no excuses,” Seonghwa insists, hands crossed over his chest. He’s clenching his jaw and there’s a sort of silent anger brewing in his gaze, “Maybe instead of making jokes in the dressing room, you should all work harder and take this more seriously. We don’t have enough time. ” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey,” Yeosang speaks up as he comes out of the left curtain from backstage, “You’re being too strict on them, Seonghwa. And they’re not wrong, you do tend to snap at everyone.” Even though his tone is soft, he’s persistent as well. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Seonghwa just huffs, a sarcastic smile morphing on his lips, “Well, I didn’t expect this from you. You of all people should know how hard someone should be working if they want to be on stage, Yeosang,” and everyone, including Yeosang, is startled by his words. Everyone is aware of the status of their relationship, even if it’s fairly recent. But during their rehearsals, Seonghwa always keeps it professional between them as he directs Yeosang on stage. “Honestly, if you insist on me being less strict you’ll never make it into this business…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There's a few gasps here and there, but nothing can prepare them for the sheer spite that Yeosang lets out when he opens his mouth, “I’m sorry, just who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeosang!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s right!” Hongjoong shouts as he runs from the dressing rooms, visibly drained and angry, “You know what, I’m tired of every single one of you, but especially you, Seonghwa!” He wipes his forehead from the sweat before approaching the third year, pushing his finger against his chest, “I can’t remember how many <em>fucking</em> times I’ve had to repair these clothes that I worked <em>so fucking</em> hard for, only to see them ruined again after <em>every fucking</em> rehearsal. And every time I talk to you about it, you never fucking listen to me!” he turns to the students on stage, who have all gathered to either witness or participate in the fight, “All of you! I’ve asked you countless of times to be more mindful of your costumes. If I have to clean another fucking dress from someone’s caramel macchiato or sew another cape, I will make all of you chew on your boots! Am I making myself clear?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s a collective affirmative mumbling and guilty stares before Seonghwa starts screaming, “You know what? You’re all so eager to whine and complain, but none of you have ever thought about what <em>I</em> am sacrificing by helping you out. Has anyone ever wondered what I have to do when I’m not in here babysitting your asses? Do you even care about the end result or are you just here to have your fun at my expense? Because for all I care, you can keep acting like a circus and I won’t give a shit!” They only catch a glimpse of a few tears running down his face before he’s out of the theatre, slamming the door behind him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fucking idiot…” Yeosang sighs as he runs after him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um, does that mean we can leave?” someone suggests shyly after a few minutes of silence. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually, Hongjoong tells them they’re free to leave after they <em>carefully</em> place their costumes on the clothing rack. Yunho leads Mingi to the dressing room once most of their classmates have left, a hand at the back of his waist. He’s still quite embarrassed of his messing up on stage, a weird mix of feelings sitting heavy in his stomach; he wonders if Seonghwa is okay, even if he's angry at him for acting like such a dick. He finds his eyes slipping shut while he tries to take off his boots, exhaustion washing over him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh Mingi…” Yunho approaches him when he shuts his eyes again, barely keeping it together, “I know you’re tired, but you’ve got one more shoe to put on and then we can go back to the dorms, silly,” he laughs and kneels down to help Mingi with his shoelaces. Mingi’s brain is swimming in a foggy sea of clouds when he bumps their heads together and Yunho looks up giggling. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He meets his eyes and he can think of nothing else he wants to do more than to kiss his pouty lips; and he reaches out and presses his mouth against Yunho’s softly, and it’s like how he’s always imagined it: he can feel his breath against his skin and the tender texture of his lips that grounds him — it’s only for a moment before the door opens and a rushing Hongjoong comes in holding his coat. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh— um.” is all he says before Mingi forgets his sleepiness and jumps up, looking like a deer caught in headlights, “Hey, Mingi—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn't want to do that—“ is the first thing that comes out of his stupid fucking mouth and it’s a blatant lie and that’s why he can’t look at either of them, not at Yunho who’s still kneeling on the floor with a perplexed look in his eyes nor at Hongjoong whose expression is something Mingi cannot decipher right now. With weak knees and trembling hands, he stumbles to gather his things as he walks towards the exit. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi!” Yunho calls after him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No! Just — leave me alone, please! Both of you!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As he runs through the theatre, he bumps into various people who call after him but he doesn’t dare turn around, stepping all over his untied shoelaces until he miraculously makes it across campus to his dorm, heart pounding in his ears as if his eardrums are going to burst. He locks the door and only then does he allow himself to slump on the floor and let out the tears like a leaking faucet, slowly at first and then with body-shaking sobs that leave his throat feeling raw. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>OKAY A A A. AHHHH<br/>this is the final chapter of this fic! <br/>this story is kind of like my baby, as i said i wrote this while in quarantine and it gave me comfort and happiness, so i really hope reading it gave you a similar experience! thank you all so, so much for commenting and giving kudos. reading your reactions brings me so much joy and motivates me to work harder on my next fics! <br/>with the semantics out of the way, here is the final chapter :)) ♡♡♡</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t attend classes for the next three days. Doesn’t answer his phone nor his texts. Time bleeds like one of San’s messy watercolor paintings, only this time there’s nothing artistic about his suffering — it’s sleeping until the afternoon and staying awake in bed for the rest of the day, surviving on snacks that now taste like burnt ash in his dry mouth and littering his room with crumpled up toilet paper. The only thing that makes him forget about his predicament is attempting to study, because it makes his brain hurt in a different way than simply reliving the memories. So that’s what he does when he doesn’t cry. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He’s acutely aware of Yunho’s presence in the dorm next to him, only this time he makes any effort necessary to not bump into him — he doesn’t open his window during his isolation. There’s texts and missed calls but he reads none of them since he has muted all of his notifications. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Which is why his heart stops when there’s a knock on the door. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi? It’s Jongho… Can I come in?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He drags his feet across the floor, the blanket around his shoulders resembling his Hamlet cape in the least honorable way, giving one last look at the pigsty that is his apartment and apathetically decides to open the door. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Apart from Jongho, San and Wooyoung have also dragged along, hiding behind him like shy children. “I met them in front of the building,” Jongho explains, “And they also wanted to make sure you’re okay. You haven’t answered any of our calls…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Mingi doesn’t say anything to excuse himself, only steps aside for the three of them to come in. They step around the discarded, bunched-up tissues, dirty clothing and small towers of books. Jongho takes a seat on the surprisingly empty desk chair while San and Wooyoung go for opposite sides of his bed, “Come sit,” San tells him, patting the small space in between them on the mattress, “Have you eaten anything?” Mingi shrugs vaguely.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“So… Hongjoong told us what happened.” Wooyoung speaks up. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Silence. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“And well, I can only judge from what he told us, from his perspective, from his issues—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Why would Hongjoong have an issue with Mingi kissing Yunho?” says San. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Wooyoung raises his eyebrow, “Huh? Why wouldn’t there be an issue? From what I know, Mingi likes Hongjoong —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“What? Wooyoungie, Mingi likes Yunho, he told me so!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Mingi just clutches his blanket tighter around his frame, wishing to recede further into the mattress until he’s nothing more than a pile of feathers. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi told <em>me</em> he likes Hongjoong!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“What?” San turns to him, “Mingi—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, both of you, stop!” Jongho stands up, pacing around the room with his hands crossed in front of his chest, “I haven’t known the two of you for as long as the others. But you guys need to stop being so nosy, even if you don’t mean to cause any trouble!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Mingi sighs in relief — he’s so tired, but there’s a feeling in his chest that tells him Jongho will speak for him. All he wants is to sleep for eternity. “And—well, like I said, I don’t know all of you that well, but I consider you my friends. So, Mingi, I promise you no matter how complicated you think this situation is,” he kneels down in front of Mingi, pushing his blanket so that it doesn’t cover his head anymore. His hair is matted and oily, but Jongho doesn’t mind it and tucks it behind his ear to show his face, “If you talk about it, you’ll feel better. No one’s going to judge you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">His breath hitches, tightness growing at the back of his throat, “I—do you… know?” And his voice is barely a whisper, because he’s afraid that Jongho is much closer to the truth than San and Wooyoung were. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The first year’s reassuring smile is more than enough of an answer, “It’s okay.” he tells him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It only takes a stuttering breath before Mingi is reduced to tears, hiding his face in his hands. Immediately, San wraps his arms around him, pushing his chest against his back to comfort him while Wooyoung pries his hands off his face gently, mumbling, “Hey, none of that now…” but it’s futile, because it only makes him sob harder. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“O-okay, um…” he lets out with trembling lips, vision blurred, “T-there’s been a m-misunderstanding…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“That is the understatement of the century,” Jongho jokes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Mingi breathes in, “Uh…so, both of you know that I, um. That I’m in love with Hongjoong,” he tells Wooyoung, “And Yunho,” he looks at San. “B-but, what I never had the chance to explain, i-is that I’m… I’m in love with both of them. Equally.” He lets go of the blanket, a gust of fresh wind hitting the back of his neck from the now opened window. “And, it’s not a matter of choosing one over the other, n-nor is it about taking chances. I’m in love with both of them, I have been for a while now. Jongho… had you — had you figured it out all this time?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I had my suspicions,” his friend explains, “Just from watching you interact with them at first, but it all came together when Hongjoong told us what happened.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I-I never…” murmurs Wooyoung. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“It looks like both of you misunderstood him.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not their fault, Jongho,” Mingi speaks, “I never bothered to explain the whole situation because I…I never thought we’d end up like this…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I’m so sorry, Mingi…” San’s voice sounds so small, muffled against his back. Mingi can’t see him, but he puts his hands over San’s that sit in front of his torso and holds them there reassuringly, “‘M sorry, I’m really sorry for making you uncomfortable and—and—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry, Mingi.” Wooyoung tells him, “For everything—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t, it’s fine,” he assures them, because he could never be mad at them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“’S not…” San mumbles, but lets it go for now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“It is, I was never planning on telling them anyway, there’s no point.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Why not?” Jongho asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Jongho I—I could never have both of them,” he admits out loud. It feels foreign on his tongue after months of keeping it inside his heart, yet it’s a sort of welcome release. It’s freeing and embarrassing at the same time, “There’s no point in confessing when one of is going to get hurt inevitably, maybe all three.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“What the hell, Mingi!” Wooyoung sits up, and when he turns to look at him, his friend’s eyes are brimming with tears, “How can you even say that? So what, just because you think your feelings are unrequited does that mean you’re not even going to try?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“It could never work,” Mingi explains, and he’s ready to cry again, “I will either end up hurting them or myself… or both.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Listen to me,” Wooyoung grands his hands and holds them in his protectively, “You cannot deny yourself potential happiness in fear of getting hurt, Mingi. If you can learn anything from my mess…” his friend’s gaze shifts to something behind him; San. “Just because people or things have the potential of hurting us or rejecting us or making us sad, that shouldn’t keep us from trying, or taking chances.” He pauses, as if debating whether or not to say his next words, “I was hurt from what happened with San. It hurt more than anything else I’ve ever experienced in my life. But I don’t regret a single moment I spent with him, nor do I regret ever confessing my feelings to him or opening my heart to him in the first place. And my love for him will never be any less just because it ended badly between us—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“W-wooyoungie…” San’s voice cracks before he starts crying quietly, hiding his face in Mingi’s neck. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You guys are a mess,” Jongho smiles fondly at the three of them crying in unison. “But Wooyoung is right, Mingi. No matter how afraid you are of what might hurt you, you can’t deny yourself the chance to live happily.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">San reaches out, shyly approaching his ex’s hand. He waits until Wooyoung reaches out as well, until they’re interlacing their fingers, “I’m so sorry, Woo.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Later, Sannie.” Wooyoung gives him the kindest smile that Mingi has seen on his friend’s face in months, all softness and the warm spring sunlight giving his skin a golden glow, “We’ll figure things out later. We have all the time in the world. Now we’re here for Mingi, okay my love?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">San’s muffled whimper makes Mingi giggle through his tears. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Now,” he continues, turning his attention to Mingi, “Despite whatever you want to believe, I can assure you that you can at least try and see how it goes. You don't have to choose.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“And what, date both of them at the same time? They would never agreed to that—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Polyamorous relationships aren’t that rare, Mingi…” Jongho tells him, “Love doesn’t come prepackaged. You make what you wish of it, what makes you happy.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Mingi can’t figure the logistics of how that would work out right now. “Um… how—how are they?” he doesn’t need to elaborate for his friends to understand. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Hongjoong was a bit, um, taken aback, to say the least,” says Wooyoung. “But he’s mostly been sulking because you’re not responding to his messages. He’s worried about you, Mingi. Yunho is, too. The two of them talk.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“With Yunho?!” Mingi feels his blood run cold, “What do they talk about?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know any details, they just text. But Hongjoong seems happier when he talks to him.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He must make a very glaring expression for all three of them to instantly react, “Mingi!” San says, “Are you always this pessimistic about yourself?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I didn't even say anything!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Your expression is telling enough!” Wooyoung cries out, “You’ve already decided that you don’t fit in next to them. Honestly, please — be kinder to yourself. You’re always so kind to us.You deserve to be happy and in love, Mingi.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">In the comfort of his room with his three friends, Mingi contemplates their words. The refreshing breeze that travels around the room smells of blooming flowers and it makes Mingi’s crying-induced migraine much more bearable. He goes to the bathroom to wash his face and comes out ten minutes later with puffy eyes, but feeling lighter in his heart — the storm that was his heart has turned into a calm, endless sea. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Jongho informs him that he has ordered food while San and Wooyoung sit on his bed, wrapped in an embrace so tight that Mingi wonders if they're even breathing. “They’re communicating in high frequencies,” his friend says, “like dolphins.” He giggles and the two boys just cuddle further into each other. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Is Seonghwa alright?” he asks forty minutes later, when their food — delicious, spicy pepperoni pizza — has arrived. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Oh he’s fine, that idiot,” San seems to come out of his shell slowly, pizza still in his mouth, “In typical Seonghwa fashion, he refrains from showing how actually stressed he is until he explodes.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“He’s going to apologize to everyone and maybe cry a bit because he's a true softie…” Wooyoung adds, freezing when San leans in to wipe sauce from the corner of his mouth, “Y-you know, he’s participating in a play with his peers as well. That’s why he’s been so anxious about balancing both being a director and an actor at the same time for months now.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t imagine how professional that’s going to look like…” Mingi wonders, “We’re all a mess.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You can’t be that bad,” Jongho says. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not bad at all!” San defends them, “Everyone works very hard, and Hongjoong’s costumes are amazing!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“The sets are beautiful too, San!” says Mingi, “Jongho, you have to see them. They look like a children’s fairytale book—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Except it’s three meters tall and heavy as fuck,” Wooyoung giggles. He leans into San and ruffles his hair, “You’re so talented, Sannie.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“No…” San tries to protest but he can’t muster any words, succumbing to his own embarrassment. “Okay…” he says decidedly, raising his pizza slice, sauce dripping onto the carton box, “To Creativity.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“To Love.” Wooyoung follows him, and San almost has a heart attack. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“To both,” Jongho proposes, looking piercingly at Mingi. And Mingi knows exactly what he’s talking about. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“To both,” he agrees. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The first time he gets out of his apartment two days later, Yunho is leaning against the opposite wall of the hallway, as if he has been waiting for him to come out. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Yunho smiles shyly, tall and gentle, “You’d have to come out as some point. We have class in ten minutes,” he reasons. He opens his arms and fuck it, Mingi allows for no logical thought process as he runs into him, body-slamming him against the concrete wall, “Oh, Mingi…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“‘M sorry,” is all he can say, hidden in the soft cotton of his shirt. It smells like fresh laundry and Yunho’s aftershave, minty and clean and comfortable and he loves this, loves that he can finally feel the softness of Yunho’s body underneath his clothes, loves how Yunho’s long arms come around him and settle on the small of his waist, “I’m sorry I ignored you after I kissed you, and I’m sorry I kissed you and I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Warm lips his ear and he giggles at the sensation, “We’ll talk about everything. But don’t apologize for kissing me…” he takes Mingi’s face into his hands and leans in. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Mingi’s heart skips a beat and he puts his own hands on Yunho’s chest, halting him gently, “Um, Yunho…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not going to kiss you unless you want me to Mingi,” his friend explains, still smiling softly, “I get the feeling that you want to tell me and Hongjoong some things…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Mingi scrunches his nose, “Did San and Wooyoung tell you guys anything?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“No, they’re too busy going through a second honeymoon phase and fucking on every surface of their apartment,” says Yunho with a mischievous smile. “Jongho talked to us… not about everything, but he gave us an idea of what you wanted to talk about.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Yunho, I — please, you have to understand —“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, hey,” with a soft kiss on his forehead, his panic subsides, “No panicking. I’m not leaving, Mingi. And neither is Hongjoong, okay? We’ll meet with him after class.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve missed him,” Mingi admits guiltily. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Yunho grabs his bag from the floor and presses a kiss on Mingi’s cheek, “I know you have, Min. I’ve missed him too. We’ll see him a few hours, hm?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">With Yunho’s comforting presence by his side, Mingi feels at peace. His heart thumps in his stomach at the thought of meeting Hongjoong later. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It’s 5 in the afternoon when Yunho and Mingi finally make their way to the university’s theatre hall, where Hongjoong is waiting for them. Rehearsals don’t start until a few hours later, so they have some time to eat lunch and relax. The hall is empty, and there’s a soft humming sound coming from the A/C units that keep it cool during the dizzying afternoon heat. Mingi opens the door for Yunho, and the latter teases him for being such a prince. He can get used to his knees getting weak like that, Mingi thinks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong sits cross-legged on the stage, a textbook open in front of him with various high-lighted parts. He’s eating his lunch, a few stray pieces of food falling in his lunchbox with how engrossed he is. Overall, it’s something Mingi has seen before. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Except instead of his usual dirty-blonde mullet, Hongjoong’s hair is cut shorter, right at the middle of his nape, with longer fringes framing his face. And it’s bright strawberry red. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Oh wow…” Mingi swoons and Hongjoong looks up, mouth still full of food. He swallows, and offers him a kind smile. Shy, but beckoning him to come closer. “Hongjoong…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi-yah…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">When they finally come together into a hug, Hongjoong has gotten off the stage and Mingi crowds him with his embrace, holding him as if he’s scared the moment he lets go that Hongjoong will disappear like a mirage. He keeps repeating apologies like a mantra, until they roll of his tongue without any effort, speaking from his heart because he doesn’t know how to do anything else. He only quiets down and Yunho joins into their hug, until the three of them hold each other tightly, until Mingi realizes that this is where he belongs. He’s yearned for this for so long. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I um, I had realized that you were both into me a while ago,” he finally admits to them when things have calmed down and they’re all lying on their backs on the wooden floor of the theatre stage. They don’t look at each other, instead they gaze at the spotlights that hide behind the curtains, visible now that they’re not shining light upon them. He’s in the middle with the two boys close to him on either side, “But I was never going to make a move… B-because I knew that, in the end, I would have to choose only one of you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Hm…” Hongjoong hums, and Mingi can’t decipher his intentions before he speaks again, “Because you like us both?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I’m in love with you,” Mingi admits, and thank God he’s staring at the ceiling and not at them, but since he’s lying down on the floor it feels like his stomach is swimming closer to his throat, ready to jump out, “I’m in love with both of you. P-perhaps, one could say that by choosing one, I would get over the other,” he takes a deep breath again, “C-call me selfish, but I can’t do that.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">There’s silence as Yunho and Hongjoong contemplate Mingi’s truth, “I made a promise to myself that I would never put the three of us in such an uncomfortable situation, where someone was going to get hurt. B-but, in the end I just… I messed it up, and I kissed you, Yunho. And I don’t regret the kiss — I’ve wanted it for so long, but it felt wrong, when I hadn’t explained myself, when I’d promised I would never tell anyone about it. Th-there was a misunderstanding, with San and Wooyoung—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Jongho told us,” says Yunho. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“He’s— he helped me out a lot, talking to him,” Mingi admits. “He made me realize that I’m a fucking dumbass.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You’re not a dumbass,” Hongjoong chuckles, “But we could have avoided a whole lot of misunderstandings if we had talked about this sooner.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Talked about what?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“The three of us.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“As in?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“A relationship.” And the way it rolls off Hongjoong’s tongue is so casual, so believable, so real. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“H-he talked about that as well. But I told him I could never force you two to—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“No one’s being forced,” Yunho speaks up, “A relationship is comprised by willing participants who are in love with each other.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I have no idea how that would work,” Mingi admits, “Just the idea makes me anxious…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“It’s definitely more complicated than a relationship between only two people.” Hongjoong agrees, “But Mingi-yah, I want to try.” He sits up and sits cross-legged, and Yunho and Mingi follow. “I’ve had all sorts of confusing and complicated feelings about the two of you for the last months. The only thing I can be sure of is that I want to spend more time with you, and show you my love, and figure everything out with you. Both of you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Oh no, Minnie is gonna cry again…” Yunho whines after a few minutes of silence. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“S-stop!” Mingi protests and he laughs, and his eyes are leaking faucets again. “Hongjoongie… I want that so badly. I’m so tired of keeping it to myself. I’m scared. I’m scared and I want to try.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck…” Hongjoong’s face scrunches up and he wells up with tears, “Okay, yeah, let’s do that? Yunho-yah?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I’d love to,” Yunho agrees. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The wooden floor isn’t ideal for a puppy pile, but Mingi couldn’t care less. They stay in comfortable silence, in each other’s presence, heads and hands and cheeks touching and Mingi thinks he’s never felt bliss like this. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Finals start in a week,” Yunho mentions at some point. “And after that we have two weeks until the festival.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck me, I’m getting old,” is Hongjoong’s first reaction and the two boys are reduced to shaking cackles. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I need to do so much studying…” Mingi whines. He thinks for a moment, “Can I ask something from both of you?” When they hum in unison, he breathes in, “Can we… can we focus on studying, and our rehearsals, for now? I don’t think I can balance everything…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“We can do that,” Yunho agrees, “We don’t go on a date until after we finish our exams and the festival.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“And until then?” Mingi asks, “We’ll still see each other, right?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Silly…” Hongjoong giggles, “Of course, Mingi-yah.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Can we study together? And have fun? Like normal? But no, um, no kissing yet.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I never thought you’d be an old-fashioned kind of lover,” Yunho says slyly, pinching Mingi’s cheek, “It’s kind of hot.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I-I…” he stutters, “I just think it might be good for us to, um… figure out the dynamics of this.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">And the three of them agree. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It starts off with a haircut. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve been telling you for months now, Mingi-yah,” Hongjoong says while he massages his scalp. He’s sat in the dressing room backstage, in front of a mirror with yellow shining lightbulbs lining the sides, reminding him of old Hollywood movies. There’s his <em>‘Principles of English Literature’</em> textbook on the desk in front of him, evidence of how hard he’s been trying to study, sneaking in quick glances whenever they take breaks from rehearsals. “You need a haircut.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You never told me why you cut yours. And why you changed the color so boldly,” Mingi retorts, looking at him through the mirror, “It’s very pretty.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong’s cheeks turn into a strawberry shade as well, “After a few days of sulking I felt like I needed a change. And a mullet is too hot to keep up during the summer,” he plays with his fringes and his neatly colored-in eyebrows that match his hair to a T. “But you need a haircut ASAP, Mingi.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He does. It’s gotten long enough to bounce around his ears, looks shaggy and he’s not used to washing it in the shower with proper shampoo so it feels hard and dry. Hongjoong’s fingers run through it again and it feels like heaven, already soothing an incoming migraine that Mingi is bound to get after a day filled with studying and memorizing. “Will you do it for me? Like how you drew me in your sketchbook, in my Hamlet clothes?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong smiles cheekily, “I’m gonna get my crafting scissors and Yunho’s shaving machine.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, now?!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“If now then never!” Hongjoong runs away towards to the bathroom like a mischievous gremlin. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Hongjoong gives him an undercut, trimming the hair on top of his head with scissors so that it’s still long but at least there’s shape to it; he doesn’t have to cut it behind his ear and it feels light and feathery. He even goes the extra mile to style it pushed back with copious amounts with hair gel so that all of his face features are on display, “You have such a beautiful nose,” he whispers into his ear, touching it with his finger and depositing a small amount of gel there, just to make Mingi giggle. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">When he looks at himself in the mirror, he has to take a few seconds to adjust at his reflection, “Do you like it?” Hongjoong asks him excitedly. He nods and his ears are cherry-red. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">A few days later, Yunho shows up at rehearsals with bleached blue hair, bouncing on his head in curly waves. Mingi knows that, of course, since Hongjoong decided to play hairdresser once again during their joint study session at Yunho’s dorm room a few days ago, until the entire room smelled of bleach and Yunho spent a few hours with a yellowish monstrosity on top of his head before he begged Hongjoong <em>to go buy him some hair dye, anything would do, honestly</em> — and when Yunho saw the final results, he couldn’t stop staring at himself in the mirror, fishing for compliments. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“A blue-haired Horatio?” Ms. Kim widens her eyes when she sees him, “Why not? It suits you a lot, Yunho!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">When Seonghwa finally shows up, there’s definitely tension between him and the rest of the troop, but with Ms. Kim acting as a mediator, it’s not long before he looks down, tears up and begins apologizing in earnest. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I-It’s okay,” Riuji speaks up, “Honestly, it’s fine. Don't worry about. Hey! Stop crying, you’re creeping me out! Go back to being a meanie!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">During their break, Mingi finds Hongjoong and Seonghwa hugging it out in the dressing room — they’re quiet, murmuring to each other comforting words with Seonghwa wiping a few stray tears. He searches his heart for any signs of malice, any signs of jealousy, and he finds none. He believes that’s a good sign. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The two grueling weeks of finals seem so far away now that Mingi’s changing into his costume. It’s the night of the performance and the air smells potently of the gardenia bushes and the evening primroses that surround the campus during this time of the year. The sun has just set and the lights are slowly flickering to illuminate the theatre hall and the backstage. The windows are open instead of the A/C, bringing in that fresh summer breeze and the buzzing hubbub of the students who are attending the festival, walking around the booths with drinks in hand. They’re all wearing light and colorful clothes, exposed shoulders and thighs that are already looking sun kissed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Things seem slightly more formal in their quarters, judging from the loud footfalls everyone’s boots are making on the wooden floor of the stage. Apart from the actors who are slowly getting into their costumes, the rest are also dressed to the nines — when Seonghwa showed up first backstage, in a velvet black suit, perfectly ironed white shirt and high-heeled, pointed leather boots, Yeosang was the first to jump on him, covering him in the same glitter his hair was decorated with. He grabbed him by his tie, pressing their mouths together in a kiss that lasts <em>a while</em>, a kiss that makes Seonghwa drop his professional facade for a lovesick, dopey smile that has most of the actors gagging. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You got glitter all over me…” he whines. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“People can hear you!” Wooyoung yells as he passes by, rushing to help someone button their corset. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Have you eaten anything?” he asks his boyfriend, ignoring everyone else. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“No, that would mess up my lipstick,” Yeosang motions to the creamy white color that covers his smile to add to his ‘ghostly’ appearance. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I already messed up your lipstick, little flower,” and Mingi doesn’t even know if they’ve even noticed he's right there, desperately trying to lace up these huge boots that make him even taller than he already is, but Seonghwa and Yeosang are in a completely different world of their own. “You’ll do amazing tonight, Yeosangie. I can't wait to see you shine on stage.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Will I have to also make-out with you as a pep-talk in a few nights when it’s your turn on the stage?” his boyfriend teases. <br/></span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll welcome you with open arms…” they kiss one more time, languid lips greeting each other before he lets go of Yeosang so that the boy can finish getting dressed, jumping happily up and down as he approaches the costume rack. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi…” Seonghwa finally acknowledges him, “I’m sorry again—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You already apologized so many times, Seonghwa,” Mingi reassures him with a confident smile, “It’s okay.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You’re so very talented, Mingi,” his friend insists, “And there were many times I didn’t treat you as my friend because I was being an anxious fucking mess, and I’m so sorry,” he doesn’t finish his sentence because Mingi already has him in his arms in a tight embrace, “You’re going to be amazing tonight. But Mingi, listen to me,” Seonghwa grabs his shoulders and looks deep into his eyes, “What I care most about, is that you have fun.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Fun?” Mingi’s eyes are wide open. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You’ll be up on stage for a long while, and I know that memorizing all those lines has been hard for you, and that you’re shy and this is something you would otherwise never do. What you’ll realize is, once you get up there, the lights will be so bright you won’t be able to see anyone in the audience. You’ll only hear their clapping, their gasps and their laughs. Their tears, sometimes. You’ll feel as if you’re alone, talking to yourself. But the moment you hear their reaction, your heart will start beating so loudly, you’ll get <em>addicted</em> to it.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“O-okay…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“So get up there and have fun and show me the Hamlet you see in <em>yourself,</em> okay?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He takes a deep breath and nods, the corners of his lips twisting into a shy smile. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Mingi-yah, did you finish getting dressed?” Hongjoong comes in. He’s wearing a silk, purplish pink shirt that leaves a good portion of his neck and torso area exposed, with a iridescent sequins sewn into the fabric that glitter underneath the lights like diamonds. The choker that hugs his neck has similar jewels on it, and his bright red hair is parted in the middle, with copious amounts of gel that make it look as if he’s just come out of the shower. “What? Am I that handsome?” he teases him when he notices how Mingi hasn’t uttered a word. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Make sure he gets dressed and gets his makeup done,” Seonghwa warns both of them before he gets out, “I want to talk to all of you before the audience starts arriving!” And with that, he’s out of the room, leaving the two of them behind. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You’re gorgeous,” Mingi admits. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You should see yourself, little one,” Hongjoong tells him, “Now, you’re still in your slacks and turtleneck, do you need help putting them on?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Mingi nods, and the third year begins helping him assemble the costume. Even though he’s worn it countless of times already, it makes Mingi’s stomach flutter to have Hongjoong’s hands all over him, adjusting the straps of his harness, the tightness of his corset, the creases on his cape that cascades from his padded shoulders. Once he is finished, Hongjoong drops to his knees and begins tying the shoelaces on his knee-high stomping boots. “Uh—you, you don’t have to do that.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t mind being on my knees for you,” is all Hongjoong says, making Mingi’s brain swim in the implications of that phrase. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Once he’s done, Mingi sits down and allows Hongjoong to do his makeup. He feels the soft brush tickle his cheek and his nose with bronzer, blinks back tears while he draws thick lines of kohl with the eye pencil in his waterline and over his lash line. He fills in his brows just a tiny bit, and then asks Mingi to part his lips. Choosing a deep crimson, he dabs some color on the inner part of Mingi’s bottom lip, spreading it with his finger. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He looks at himself in the mirror once everything is finished; his features are accentuated with Hongjoong’s makeup skills, making him look mysterious, angrier, untouched. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I added another detail to your costume last night… Thought it was fitting.” Hongjoong wraps his arms around Mingi’s shoulders, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Carefully, he lifts one of the flaps of the petticoat on the cape, revealing a handmade, sewn-on patch right over Mingi’s heart. It won’t be visible to anyone if he doesn’t lift the petticoat of his cape, which his role doesn’t oblige him to. This is specifically just for Mingi — a hand-drawn illustration of the Three of Swords. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Hongjoongie…” his breath hitches, “This is…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Us,” he replies easily, “The three of us.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Yunho enters the dressing room as if he can hear them — his costume consists of a dark navy cape that’s shorter than Hamlet’s, slacks that end just above his ankle and platform boots that resemble oxford-style shoes. His blue fluffy hair is styled in a side part, curling around his ears, and he has peachy sparkling eyeshadow buffed around his eyes that makes him look gentle and sleepy. “Well, hello there,” he tells them, “You both look stunning.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“C’mere,” Hongjoong tells him. Yunho approaches them, getting into the magic bubble that involves only the three of them, where every touch feels electric and Mingi’s lips are aching to be kissed. “My beautiful boys,” he croons, “I can’t wait to take you on a date once this is over.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“And kiss,” Yunho adds. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, kiss,” Mingi agrees way too enthusiastically. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Their moment is interrupted by San calling them to the stage so that Seonghwa can give them a final pep-talk before people start arriving. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Everyone looks so different in their costumes and makeup, Mingi thinks. The curtain is drawn over them, and he can’t see but he can hear the idle chatter of the audience as they flood in and begin finding their seats. He can’t feel his feet inside his boots from the anticipation. The stage sets are hidden because of the dim lights, but that doesn’t stop San from marveling at his work with Wooyoung by his side. They’re wearing formal clothes as well, and matching necklaces. Mingi hears them whisper sweet nothings to one another as they stand next to him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve all worked so hard,” Ms. Kim holds a tissue in front of her nose as she tears up, “I think this is the best, most elaborate theatrical performance our department has ever put up! And nothing would have been done without the hard work and the participation of all of you! You are all amazing students, and such talented people.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I agree wholeheartedly,” Seonghwa smiles at them, “You are all — hey, hey, no crying! No crying — you’ll mess up your makeup you idiots!” he hisses at them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Mingi can feel his whole body vibrating with an emotion that he can’t quite name yet. It’s a feeling that reminds him of a riverbank that’s ready to overflow. He takes a deep breath, and Hongjoong and Yunho take his hands into theirs. He can do this. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">After a forward from Ms. Kim to the audience, the play begins with a round of applause. Yunho is the first who appears on stage with Yeosang following, and Mingi sneaks peaks here and there from the curtains, but discreetly, since he doesn’t want to be seen by the audience and distract them from the actors. He jumps up and down to ease the jittery feeling in his legs, until he’s told off by a classmate of his because he’s making noise. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Make sure to push the panels carefully,” San whispers to two boys who are up next, “Don’t get paint on your hands right before you get on stage — ah, Mingi!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Shhh!” Mingi tells him cautiously, and San’s eyes bulge out before he cups a hand in front of his mouth. “Sannie…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You’ll do great, don’t be nervous,” his friend assures him, “Also, I found out about something, but I can’t tell Seonghwa or Hongjoong or Wooyoung, and I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t talk to someone about it.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“What’s going on?” asks Mingi worriedly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Well,” San looks around so that they won’t be interrupted, a conspirator-y look on his face, “You see, when Seonghwa’s department puts up their play at the end of this week, they’re expecting local journalists, but also professional directors and big-name actors who want to scout for new talents. And, I was told by Ms. Kim that some of them have also arrived for today’s show as well!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Oh! Um…” nothing changes in Mingi’s heart, it’s not like he’s going to change his acting to get scouted. “W-well, how does that affect Hongjoong and Wooyoung?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Editors from fashion magazines have come as well,” San explains, and he’s whispering it so closely to Mingi’s ear that his cologne has begun to numb Mingi’s nostrils, “We don’t know where they’re from yet, but there’s a good chance someone from <em>Vogue</em> is here.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Holy shit,” Mingi gasps. He doesn’t know much about fashion, but even he can understand the gravity of the name, “Oh! The costumes, oh my God!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Exactly!” San agrees, “But please, don't mention anything! Hongjoong especially, he’s going to spiral into an anxiety attack. It’s better if we tell him after the final act is over.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Their plan is quickly thrown out of the window when Hongjoong rushes over to them, barefoot as to not make any sounds on the creaky floor, “Did you know a fucking journalist from fucking <em>Vogue</em> is here?!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Shhh!” someone calls from the dressing room. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“O-okay,” San squeaks, “You told Wooyoung, didn’t you?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Wooyoung told <em>me</em>,” Hongjoong says back, eyes wide open, “What the hell, how did they— did the department invite them? Are they going to talk to us?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Probably. I heard there’s multiple journalists covering the play.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“L-let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Mingi tries to calm them down, “Sannie, please keep Wooyoung company, I know he’s in the left-wing dressing rooms.” Once San takes off, he turns to Hongjoong, “Hongjoongie—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I-I know, I never get this anxious, but-but I wasn’t prepared! All I can think about is them judging my work, nitpicking at all the wrong details, then they’ll tear me apart in an article about how I make ‘clown clothes’ and then my career in fashion will be over before it’s even started—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Mingi shuts him up by grabbing him from his silk shirt, and crushing their lips together. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">It’s like time stops, only the taste of Hongjoong’s cherry lip balm clouding his senses, the texture of his lips melting against Mingi’s, frantically, with need and ache of so many months. Hongjoong’s hands sneak underneath his cape, tugging at his corset, pushing their hips together while his teeth graze over the pillowy softness of their mouths. His hands are cold when they reach his neck after they’ve felt his torso, curling around it as he sighs and lets Mingi kiss him until he can’t breathe. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">From what he can hear from the stage, he has to get out there in less than two minutes. He lets go of Hongjoong, who looks at him with a bewildered look, “Hongjoongie, I love you,” he blurts out, because he can’t think of anything better to say, before he fixes his cape and makes a grand entrance on stage. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He acts as if on auto-pilot — even though he can feel the words rolling off his tongue without stuttering, while they evoke the feeling he wishes them to, it’s like he’s having an out of body experience. His body moves as it’s supposed to, swishing his cape so that the crimson felt fabric Hongjoong added on the inside can be shown off, and dramatically holding his arm in front of him, when he monologues. It’s as Seonghwa told him — the lights that shine directly on stage are so bright, Mingi can’t see anyone in the audience. He can only hear their heavy breathing during the scenes of tension, a few chuckles, some gasps. It’s kind of addicting. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">And Yunho; with his peachy eyeshadow and his equally peachy cheeks, whenever they interact on stage, he looks like a dream come true, a boy so beautiful and cute that Mingi has to stop himself from sneaking too many unnecessary touches. He still sneaks them in, though. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The play progresses without any bumps for a while, until it’s time for Hamlet’s infamous monologue. Mingi only has a few moments to calm himself backstage before he has to go out again, so he decides to fix his runny makeup that’s definitely smudged around his eyes because of his sweating. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">What he finds inside the room makes him sweat even more — Yunho has Hongjoong propped up on the desk, makeup brushes and palettes tossed aside to fit his butt while they two make-out, chasing each other with their lips, smacking sounds echoing in the entire room. Yunho’s hair is positively messed up and will definitely need retouching from the way Hongjoong grabs on to it for dear life. None of them have noticed Mingi standing there, until he speaks up, “Fuck.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Y-you didn’t keep your promise of no kissing either!” Yunho complains, but he can’t be bothered, his smile reaching his ears, “And this one told me all about what’s making him anxious, so I figured—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You figured you’d mess me up too,” Hongjoong chuckles, out of breath from kissing. “Mingi-yah…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I have to get on stage like, now,” Mingi says, “B-but you two can keep on kissing while I’m out there. I’m definitely gonna, um, think about it.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Before he can stalk walking away, Yunho leans over and kisses him, quickly, but passionately, “You can think about this, too.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He isn’t sure exactly how he manages to deliver the most iconic monologue in the entire history of theatre, but he’s certain that he doesn't stutter, nor does he forget anything. For all he knows, the entire thing is over in a few minutes, and he's backstage again, bumping into Seonghwa’s sturdy chest. His friend seems to be blending in with the shadowy curtains again, surveilling the play as it moves forward, “Good job Mingi,” he tells him, and he feels a weight get lifted off his chest, “Although,” his friend chuckles, “That was the happiest <em>‘To be or not to be’</em> speech I’ve ever witnessed in my life. You even cracked a smile at the end.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I—“ </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay. There’s no reason to pretend you’re depressed just for Hamlet’s sake,” says Seonghwa, “You’re happy, and that’s all that matters.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Mingi grins, “I am.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">With Hamlet’s death from the poisonous sword and Horatio’s final speech, the play ends in a flourish of thundering applause. The entire cast, along with their teacher and their friends hold hands as they bow, three times in a row, and the curtain falls. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Seonghwa starts yelling, grabbing Yeosang by the waist and shaking him up and down, “We did it, we did it, we finally did it!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The rest take a few seconds to process the sight in front of them before they start yelling as well, even though the audience hasn't left the theatre yet. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">They file into the dressing room, changing into their normal clothes without any care for some privacy, “You guys were amazing! Congratulations!” Jongho screams when he comes in, holding a giant bouquet of roses in his hands. He looks so well dressed in his suit, and even has his hair styled. he begins distributing the flowers, so that everyone holds at least one rose in their hands. “You all looked like movie stars up there, everyone loved it. Also, there’s a group of people in very expensive clothes who are waiting at the theatre entrance to talk to you four,” he turns to Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Wooyoung and San. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“M-me?” San says, startled. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Admittedly, Hongjoong is the one who seems the most at ease when it comes to talking to the journalists. They wish to write a featured article on the creative directors of the play, both about the costumes and the stage sets — Hongjoong arranges an interview in two days, so that they can show off the costumes and San’s creations in broad daylight without getting interrupted. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Do you think I sounded too arrogant?” Hongjoong laments as the eight of them walk towards San and Wooyoung’s apartment after everyone’s left and they've locked up. It’s well past midnight now, their stomachs rumbling and their knees weak with exhaustion, “What if I sounded way too full of myself?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You handled it very professionally,” Yunho assures him, “I think you showed that you had respect for your work and you want to show it on your own terms.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Is anything other than the pizza place going to be open at this hour?” Yeosang wonders, holding Seonghwa’s hand, “I want something sweet…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“There’s a convenience store a few minutes from here,” San says, “We can get some ice-cream.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“And jellybeans,” Wooyoung adds. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">They’re definitely a nightmare for the sleepy old man who handles the store at this hour, their boots clicking loudly against the floor, and they look like a mess too: they made no effort to take any of their makeup or hair gel off, and it looks strikingly absurd under the bluish lights of the store. Mingi leans over the fridge and closely inspects his choices — he’ll probably go for something fruity. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">A pair of arms wrap around his waist, leaning over him, “You have a sweet-tooth I can satisfy?” Yunho giggles in his ear. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Yunho!” Mingi laughs as he’s tickled, “Stop…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Just a kiss, please?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">They don’t get to kiss much before Hongjoong joins them near the ice-cream section, “I too, would like a kiss. The fact that no one is kissing me right now is a crime.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“If you’re going to be this needy every time we kiss I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off of you two,” Yunho admits, looking like he’s ready to pounce. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Allow me to remind you that we are in public,” Jongho speaks as he passes the three of them with lots of snacks in his arms, “You can kiss all you want when we’re at San and Wooyoung’s.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">When he leaves, Mingi pulls on the sleeves of his… boyfriends’ (?) shirts, “One last kiss. Well, two kisses. Please,” he demands. He’s allowed to demand now. He wouldn't be able to resist anyway. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The early morning hours find the eight friends cuddled onto the same mattress that San and Wooyoung still haven't replaced — they didn’t watch any movies this time, instead opting to talk, and talk, talk, until their mouths went numb and the sun came up and the exhaustion wrapped around them like a blanket as they dozed off. Seonghwa and Yeosang were the first ones to fall asleep, the latter curling into Seonghwa’s chest like a lithe feline claiming its spot, softly snoozing. San and Wooyoung still haven’t slept, chattering quietly about getting a new bed and spending the summer in their back yard, together. Mingi is settled into the pillows, letting Hongjoong and Yunho play with his hair. Jongho makes small talk with Hongjoong but he too, is starting to feel sleepy. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“My eyes are itching…” Mingi whines. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“’S cause of the makeup,” Yunho says, and yawns, “We should probably take it off.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Mmm… we should…” Mingi blabbers. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You’re not gonna get up, are you?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Hm, nope…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“We can deal with it later,” Hongjoong decides, “Now, we sleep.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“S-sleep…” Mingi’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth, “Are we boyfriends now?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Someone’s a sleep talker…” the third year giggles, “Yeah, I guess we’re boyfriends. Although, we still haven’t gone to our first date yet.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, when we wake up at noon, we can get pancakes,” Yunho proposes, “I wonder which one of my boyfriends is going to pay for my food.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“You brat,” Hongjoong pokes his cheek, “Oh, I think Mingi’s asleep.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Almost,” Mingi mumbles, ready to sleep, “I love you guys…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Love you,” Hongjoong kisses his cheek. He leans into Yunho, kissing his nose, “Love you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I love you both,” Yunho confesses, and with that, they fall asleep holding onto each other, drifting into dreamland. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">☾</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">(Hongjoong ends up paying for their pancakes a few hours later, because he has a coupon for a 2+1 deal at the coffee shop with every sweet they order. “The best things in life come in three,” Mingi reminds him with a blushing smile.) </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if you'd like, you can find me on twitter @milkytae12 ♡</p></blockquote></div></div>
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